Tales of Mojo 'Superdog'
by Phoenix13
Summary: MOVIEVERSE The adventures of Sam's Chihuahua, Mojo, with the Autobots. Chapter 11 Bumblebee, Sam, and Mojo are caught red-handed in Optimus Prime's quarters looking for naughty femme material under his recharge berth - but by who?
1. Chapter 1

**Tales of Mojo 'Superdog'**

AUTHORS NOTE: This is the first story of my new series, 'Tales of Mojo', stories set after my fanfic 'Mojo Mayhem'. These are, like the title says, tales of Mojo's interaction with the Autobots. Not a lot happens in this first bit, but the next chapter should be, ahem, explosive. Judy Witwicky is a hard woman...

**Chapter One**

Optimus Prime couldn't help but take cautious sideways glances at his CMO, Ratchet. While Captain Lennox was taking up most of Prime's attention with the discussion of where to begin construction of the new Autobot Base, the Autobot Commander had _plenty_ of processing power left over to contemplate the behaviour of his friend.

"We need to establish how many underground levels to put in here, and exact dimensions would no doubt help, since SecDef prodding me for details is a heck of a poke in the back to deal with..." Lennox's voice became background static.

The scrubby vacant plains over an hours drive from the town of Tranquillity were remote enough for the Autobots to do as they wished (with discretion), it was a good place to begin for the Autobots proper new residence. No more hastily converted aircraft hanger. This was to be a fully operational military base – sanctioned and supported by the US Government (not to forget they were also footing the Transformer-sized bill). Optimus found himself splitting his attention three ways – one, with Lennox; two, casting an appreciative optic over the chosen location for his new home; and three, contemplating how to delicately tell Ratchet to leave and visit Mojo.

For the past few Earth weeks, Ratchet had been alternately polite and morose. Optimus and Ironhide had no doubt that Mojo returning to Sam and his family was the cause. A happy Ratchet was one who threw tools, made sarcastic remarks and threatened to offline anyone he felt like. A contented Ratchet hid the painkiller fluid ampoules and sweetly informed his more annoying patients that, oh dear, he'd 'forgotten' where he'd put them.

None of which had happened for a while.

Desperate, Ironhide had dismantled the smaller of his two arm cannons and left it in bits all over one of the medbay benches, saying a far-too-happy "Opps! Help, Ratch, I'm over my head here!" when the medic had entered the medbay early one morning. Morning was always a seriously bad time for the medic, he could easily go nuclear on your aft with little prompting. Ratchet had stopped short and blinked his recharge bleary optics rapidly at 'Hide sprawled in a seat next to the bench covered in his cannon pieces.

The astonished Weapons Specialist had been left with a permanent glitch in his processor when Ratchet nodded, gracefully picked up a few tools and got to work with putting the cannon back together. His only comment being, "This should take no time at all, Ironhide. Just relax." No tantrum, no screaming, no death threats, no deadly objects thrown at Ironhide's stupid armored head.

Optimus had been waiting down the hall with his rifle in one hand, certain Ironhide was making a fatal error provoking the medic in such an obnoxious way. Instead, his rifle had been dropped to the floor with a harsh thud by Optimus' numb fingers, such was his shock at Ratchet's idle response to Ironhide's deliberate set-up.

Even Bumblebee had tried to help when he visited the base. He'd given Ratchet a bear hug, leaning his head against Ratchet's chest and squeezing sympathetically. Instead of the yellow scout being forcibly dismantled in under an Earth minute, Ratchet had merely patted Bumblebee on the shoulder, thanked him for his concern and returned to work! Bee had aimed a playful kick at Ratchet's aft in frustration when the medic turned away from him, but Ironhide used his quick reflexes to grab the smaller bot and swing him away from connecting with Ratchet's body, Bumblebee's agile foot whistling through the air inches away from it's intended target. Ironhide 'bopped' the yellow bot on the head with one fist and pushed him away, shaking his head with a quiet growl.

"Maybe we should get a dog of our own, Ratchet obviously needs a pet of some sort," Optimus had brooded late one evening once Ratchet had gone to his room. The medic often retired to recharge early now, instead of staying up most of the night pottering about in his much-loved medbay.

From the other side of the table, Ironhide leaned back in his chair and stared at his Commander with outright disdain, "I swear I did not just hear you say that. I thought you ordered us not to use live organic targets on the shooting range. Only synth holoforms, you said."

Optimus bestowed a withering 'ha-ha, so-not-funny' glare on his friend and let a discontented rumble fill his chest. "Yes, perhaps a dog would be a bad idea. We are a military unit, after all."

Ironhide grunted, running one hand lovingly over his left cannon. His optics became serious, looking across the table at Optimus, "We need to do something. This is just tragic, honestly."

It didn't surprise Optimus to hear Ironhide express concern over Ratchet. The pair were close friends, despite how much they argued and fought.

"Agreed. Yet, you know how badly he reacted when I ordered him to visit the dog. My words slid off him like expensive frictionless lubricant. He's refusing to discuss the subject at all. Nor does he take time-off." Prime's optics dimmed, thinking.

"Why not ask Sam to call Ratch and ask for a few med scans? The boy could say Mojo has been feeling unwell, ejecting food, legs falling off, whatever sounds good," Ironhide suggested plainly.

Optimus Prime's optic ridges arched up in surprise. Oh. "Ironhide, that's brilliant!" However much some of the other Autobots think Ironhide is lacking a few processing intelligence chips, there's one heck of a logic chip in there somewhere, Optimus thought, why didn't I think of that?!

So when Captain Lennox's musing and questioning of the Autobot Leader over the new base was interrupted by a phone call from Sarah, his wife, Optimus seized the opportunity to signal Sam via remote relay. The boy was currently at school, yet his mobile phone was rigged to receive signals and calls from Optimus himself, and Sam had been informed of Ratchet's depressive behaviour. He was more than willing to help out with the devious plan.

Fortunately, Sam was immediately able to react to Optimus' prompting (lunchtime, perhaps?), and Prime saw Ratchet stiffen as his internal communications system answered Sam's worried fake call. It only took a few seconds more for Ratchet to turn to Optimus, requesting leave to examine a 'very sick Mojo'.

"Please go Ratchet, we need to ensure Mojo is not malfunctioning. Sam would be distraught if anything were to happen to him," Optimus spoke solemnly. His words were hardly finished before the medic had transformed and was speeding back to Tranquillity without delay. Gotcha, Optimus thought uncharacteristically with glee, you will feel better after this, my friend.

"What's wrong with Ratchet?" Lennox asked, staring after the racing Autobot curiously. He suddenly stiffened, "Decepticons?"

Optimus looked down at the concerned man with wicked optics, linking his hands behind his back calmly, "Oh, far worse, Captain. Dog problems."

"Dog...? Wha...?" Lennox let his shoulders drop from their tense position, "I swear, you guys are worse than Epps with his Budgerigars."


	2. Chapter 2

**Tales of Mojo – Superdog**

**Chapter 2 **

Ratchet turned his lights and siren on and off several times during his rapid drive to the Witwicky residence in Tranquillity. At first, as he approached the built-up suburban area of the town, he had turned on his flashing lights and siren to swerve around some jammed traffic and shorten the waiting time at traffic lights – slag, couldn't humans think of better traffic control measures than lights which flashed different colors?? Then Ratchet had been stricken with guilt. He should not be causing the other drivers on the road concern with his haste to help an Earth dog.

No more lights and siren.

It was a medical emergency, although yes, Mojo was not a _human _emergency, he was in need of urgent attention. The medic had tried to contact Sam for more details, but he could not connect up with the boy's mobile phone. He left umpteen messages in text and verbal form (Sam was actually avoiding answering Ratchet's calls, he didn't want to lie any more or make up crap about Mojo's state of health!).

Then another traffic hold-up stopped his progress. He couldn't help himself. On went the lights and siren. And so it went until Ratchet finally pulled up in the back alleyway to Sam's house, the same one the Autobots has used when they had first arrived and Sam was fetching the encoded glasses for them.

It was the middle of the day. All the houses were quiet. The humans were at work, the younger humans at school. Ratchet scanned carefully and could not detect any humans in his immediate vicinity. He turned off the alleyway and into the rear driveway of the house, rumbling slowly into the backyard. Thinking it was safe, he transformed, ending his change crouched down on hands and knees to keep himself from being seen above the fenceline. He knew he must look absolutely silly, hunkered down on the driveway, his bottom sticking up into the air and the bumper bar on his chest scrapping at the ground as he moved along.

"Mojo?" he called quietly, looking around. He saw Mojo's famous penthouse, a tiny house made of wood, up on stilts. It had a balcony on the side facing the humans house and inside was a luxurious padded dog bed (also on little legs). Ratchet inched himself forward and poked one metallic finger at it, checking to see Mojo wasn't lying inside of it. The thing wobbled on its stilts.

"Humph, bad design. Not safe." Ratchet's optics narrowed in disgust at it, then he swung around and carefully shuffled along over the grass until he reached the back porch. He ducked his head, looking inside the house windows. "Mojo? Where are you?" he called again, his worry starting to escalate. What if Mojo was incapacitated and couldn't respond? Too sick to move? He couldn't get to him if he was stuck inside! His body was too big! What was he going to do if –

(CLANG, clatter, clatter)

"BARK!" Mojo came barrelling through his dog door, having heard someone creeping around in his backyard. "Bark, bark, bark!" He was all macho bluster and attitude.

The dog pulled up short at the top of the back steps, his head shrinking back onto his neck as he looked upwards at a surprised Ratchet on all fours in front of him. "Urrrrm?" he asked, licking his lips, body shaking. It was his super big friend! The one with warm hands and dog food! His tail wagged so hard his bottom wove back and forth from the effort.

"Mojo! Thank Primus!" Ratchet said with delight and relief, he reached a hand out to pat the dog and thought better of it, holding his hand out flat for the dog to get onto. Business first. "On you get, lets have a look at you, Sam said you were terribly sick?" Mojo leapt onto the hand obediently and Ratchet sat himself down on the ground, his legs stretched out in front of him, his hand holding Mojo close to his upright upper body.

"Arf! Yapyap!" Mojo said excitedly to Ratchet. He'd been so bored since he came back home. He missed having someone to talk to, annoy for food and keep him occupied. None of his family were usually home during the day. One of the Autobots had always been around to amuse him at the base. He was never left alone.

"Hmmm," Ratchet scrutinised the canine, running scans while visually examining the dog. "I can't see anything wrong, Mojo. You're scans are coming up clean. Sam said you were ejecting food, 'vomiting', on the back lawn and having crazy fits. Is that correct?"

Mojo grinned a dog smile, sitting down on his haunches in Ratchet's palm. His protruding Chihuahua eyes blinked and squinted in the sunshine.

"Is it too hot for you here? Perhaps we'd do better over here," Ratchet moved himself around on his rear end in small wriggles and shoves to get himself and Mojo into the shade cast by the house on the lawn. Worrying about being seen, the Autobot lay down on his back in the grass, propping the dog on his chest. Mojo approved of that, stretching himself out in a Sphinx pose on Ratchet's chestplates in front of his black Hummer bumperbar.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Ratchet asked again, intensive blue optics watching the dog closely. Mojo just kept smiling and panting. He wasn't worried about anything.

"Perhaps I'd better stay for a while, then I could observe your symptoms. Better to be close by, just in case." Ratchet said half to himself, half to Mojo. The medic reached one arm back and slid a hand underneath his own head, keeping it up enough so he could keep a clear watch on his small canine charge. His other hand rested on his chest next to the dog. Mojo's eyes started to close, his nose dropped down to rest on his paws. Ratchet had interrupted his afternoon snooze.

The Autobot watched the dog settle down and fall asleep with a few cute snuffles and paw stretching. He felt much better than he had in weeks, his mood was starting to magically lift. Having Mojo on his chest, no Decepticon activity, some peace and quiet; life on Earth was looking good again...

"ROBOT! What the hell are you doing with my dog?! I'm going to _beat_ you if you've hurt him!"

"ARGH! What?! Who??" Ratchet's upper body surged upwards. It was only his quick hands that caught Mojo as the poor dog slid off his chest towards the ground at the abrupt change of position. He caught Mojo in his cupped hands. The dog gave a startled muffled bark.

"YOU! You _thing_, whatever you are, let Mojo go!" A woman was standing next to him on the grass, swinging some sort of object at him – a bag?

(WHACK)

Ratchet drew his knees up to his chest protectively as Judy continued to assault his legs with her shopping bag. She wasn't making much progress at hurting him. The soft blows bounced off his armor.

"YOU! I'm talking to you! Alien!" The woman was shrieking now, in-between swinging her deadly bag.

_Is this Sam's female parental unit? _Ratchet wondered, holding Mojo close to his chest and away from the extremely aggravated woman.

(WHACK) (WHACK) The shopping bag was getting a serious workout.

_Oh, for Primus sake,_ Ratchet thought desperately. "Female! Please stop! I am not here to hurt Mojo, or anyone ELSE for that matter!" Ratchet spoke up, glaring down at the angry woman.

Judy stood panting, leaning over and getting her breath, the bag hanging down from her clutching hands. "What... what are you doing.. with my dog!" she screeched again, gasping for air.

"I'm here to help him. Sam informed me Mojo was sick." Ratchet scanned the woman with guarded optics. The female was not breathing properly, her temperature was going up. Her face was red. "You also don't seem well. You are over exerting yourself. Do you require assistance?" She'd hit him and verbally abused him, but he was here to help, and if she was also not well, he would extend his assistance. This was one of Sam's progenitors after all.

"I'm not sick! I'm not the freaking invader of someone else's backyard!" Judy snapped, finally letting go of her bag tiredly and stumbling back to the stairs, sitting down, her eyes staring at Ratchet accusingly. She'd started to realise this was one of the Autobots, Sam's alien friends. She sort of remembered meeting this robot once when her son had quietly introduced them to her and Ron after the Mission City incident. While Bumblebee, the yellow Camero, was now almost considered family; since he spent nearly all of his time with Sam and slept at night in their backyard; Judy hadn't thought too much about the _other_ robots. Sam often talked about the others, but she couldn't match names to, er, faces.

"I'm going to put Mojo down now, please don't scream again," Ratchet said, watching her as carefully as she was watching him. He gently lowered Mojo to the ground, opening his cupped hands. The dog huffed once he was down, looking up at Ratchet curiously. "Urrmm?" he asked, sitting down.

"Mojo! Mojo sweetie, come here!" Judy called from where she sat on the steps, leaning over her knees and clicking her fingers. Mojo looked between Ratchet and his Mom. Undecided.

"Mojo!" Judy called desperately again, more demanding. Mojo went.

A small smirk appeared on Ratchet's faceplates. The dog had hesitated. Mojo liked him as much as the human.

Judy cuddled the dog, kissing Mojo's head. She studied the sitting robot. "What are you doing here?" she demanded.

Ratchet let a rush of air escape his intakes. What an arrogant human! All demands and violence! "Sam called me to examine Mojo. He informed me he was sick, vomiting and doing strange things. My name is Ratchet, I am the Chief medic for the Autobots."

"Oh." Judy rubbed at Mojo's ears, staring at Ratchet. "You're a car too?"

"Yes, I am a car." _All the humans are obsessed with what car modes we take!_ Ratchet mused, still wary. _That's all they ever ask! What color, what model, how fast, and where's your gun?? Maybe Ironhide is right, show them your firepower first. Makes them step back and show more respect. _

"Oh." Judy said again, still staring, wide-eyed.

Ratchet raised one optic ridge at her. Very expressive, some of these humans. "You are one of Sam's... parents, correct?"

"His Mom, yes. I'm Judy." She frowned for a second, then held up Mojo with both hands, "and this is our dog Mojo!" she said brightly, eyes shining, mouth smiling.

Ratchet had to force back a choked laugh. Strange female. "Yes, I know. We've met before."

"You have?" Judy asked uncertainly.

Further questions were stalled by the loud gunning of a distinctive engine. A glistening yellow car turned into the driveway from the alleyway with several high engine revs, moving to park at the end of the drive.

"Ratchet's here! And, oh shit, it's Mom!" Sam squeaked, putting his hands on Bumblebee's dashboard and peering out the front window.

"Bumblebee! Sam! How was school?" Judy piped up, putting Mojo on the ground and standing up. She brushed her jeans off with her hands as Bumblebee's car door opened and Sam tumbled out on splayed legs.

"Uh, hi?" Sam stood still and gave a feeble wave. Bumblebee opened his car door wider, smacking Sam gently on his butt and pushing him forwards. They had talked about this. Judy needed to know where Mojo had been while she and Ron were on holiday.

"Sam honey! Give your Mom a kiss," Judy held out her arms. Sam slowly walked into them, putting up with being kissed on the cheek and having his hair messed up. "We have another visitor!" she said, and turned to Ratchet still sitting on the lawn. He hadn't moved. "This is, uh, um... another robot." She finished lamely. She couldn't remember his strange name.

A digital whistle of mirth came from Bumblebee. Ratchet sent him a snarling text message.

"Its Ratchet, Mom, that's Ratchet," Sam informed her, "Hey Ratch!" he waved.

"Hello, Sam. I have not found anything wrong so far with Mojo. Can you explain his symptoms again?", the medic asked Sam. Ratchet was starting to get suspicious. Sam had made it sound like Mojo was terribly sick, which was clearly not the case.

"Oh, um. He, er, chucks up on the lawn. Yeah. Brings up his breakfast." Sam explained, red-faced, looking down at his feet.

Judy looked at her son curiously, "When did Mojo do that? You didn't tell me."

Ratchet looked at her solemnly, quietly agreeing, "Yes, Mojo only ejected food once while he was with us, and that was when Barricade threw him by accident."

Stone cold horrified silence reigned over the backyard.

Bumblebee quietly started to back-up down the driveway, letting his wheels roll silently. He wasn't going to get involved in this firefight. He'd seen what Judy could do when she was angry. He'd been hoping she wouldn't get upset.

Too late.

"Mojo was WHAT? With YOU? When, exactly, was he with you?" Judy demanded, hands on hips.

Sam decided to get it all over with in one big rush. "Mojo stayed for a week with the Autobots, uh, the aliens. Just one week, Mikaela and I went to her Uncles beach house, and Mojo had to stay somewhere, and yeah, they were real good to him, Ratchet LOVES Mojo, and Optimus walked Mojo, and Barricade flipped Mojo into the air so Mojo vomited on Ratch's chest, but that was okay, Ratchet caught him, see, he does love him, and Ratch was getting depressed so we arranged to get him here to visit Mojo, and, oh. I think that's it." Sam froze, mouth now shut. Waiting. His hand felt behind him for Bumblebee's reassuring presence. His hand met air. He looked around. Bumblebee was sneaking away down the driveway. The coward!

Judy's mouth opened and closed, spluttering. Her face was getting red again. "WHAT!!!! My dog, left alone with ROBOTS?!?!"

"ARGH! Shit! Run Ratch!" Sam lost it, spinning around and running madly towards Bumblebee for safety.

"Run? Run why?" Ratchet looked completely innocent. He didn't understand. The Judy woman let loose a shriek of pure fury and ran inside the house. With Sam now safely inside, Bumblebee was taking off down the alleyway. Ratchet was left alone in the backyard, looking confused.

It didn't take Judy long to return.

"Please tell me, what is wrong with us taking care of Mojo? Be reassured, we did a very good job," Ratchet asked the woman as she stalked towards him looking very dangerous. He started to stand up. Something exploded in his face. He wobbled on his feet, surprised.

"ARGH! Gah! Female! What was that?" Ratchet rubbed at his nose. It was stinging. He saw the female pull her arm back, ready to throw again. "Now look here-!" Ratchet began, holding a hand out palm downwards in pacification. Another explosion, this time it hit his chest. And then she started to hit at his legs with a thick wooden stick thing. Primus, the female had weapons!

Ratchet had enough. He was gone. With a deep growl, the medic transformed and followed the same path as Bumblebee, his thick black tyres biting into the ground. _Femmes, they're all the same! Fricking mad! No programmable common sense! _

Judy Witwicky threw one last 'Big Bang' firework cracker at the departing Hummer car, flinching as it exploded in the air, and clutching a baseball bat in her other hand.

"You come back here again for my dog, I'm gonna _beat_ you!" she screamed, waving a fist.

Mojo had run inside to hide under the couch. He didn't like loud noises.


	3. Chapter 3

**Tales of Mojo 'Superdog'**

AUTHORS NOTE: This chapter is a bit slow to get started, but stick with it. I hope its okay! And I'm getting reviews on my stories from someone called 'guess'. I've got a few 'guesses' in mind, but I few more clues would be welcome. LOL

I've also had my last wisdom tooth taken out, which has damaged the nerve to my lower jaw and made my jaw, chin and lips go numb! Can't feel a thing! Very depressed and panicky at the moment, I can't stand this horrible feeling. I'm getting varying opinions on when the nerve will heal – a few weeks to 12 months!! This sucks. Typing new story helps take my mind off it...

**Chapter 3**

_Temporary Autobot Headquarters, outskirts of Tranquillity. _

"She did what?" Optimus Prime looked at an embarrassed Sam Witwicky and an angry Ratchet in disbelief after hearing about what had happened at the Witwicky residence. Ironhide leant against one of the medbay benches, arms crossed, smirking at hearing about Ratchet and Bumblebee being sent running by a human femme.

"She tried to assault me! And HE drove off, the scoundrel." Ratchet pointed a greenish yellow accusatory finger at Bumblebee. "He slowly backed down the driveway when no one was watching, snatched Sam and left me alone with THAT female. No help at all!"

Bumblebee shrugged vaguely, looking non-plussed. He'd made the decision to retreat, so what? It had been a strategic choice, he was allowed to run if he felt he was in over his head and Ratchet was a big mech, he could defend himself. Sam sidled closer to his Guardian, shifting around so he was half hidden from Optimus Prime's incredulous stare behind Bee's thick leg. He was mortified at what his mother had done to Ratchet. It was awful. Not for the first time, Sam wished his mother wasn't such a freakazoid with her temper.

Ironhide snickered, having listened to the saga with interest. He nudged 'Bee in the shoulder, "Good one, runt."

"Guys, I'm sooo sorry, my mom is... is... a bit out of control sometimes." Sam stared down at his feet with one hand on his forehead, a cringing expression on his face.

"You don't need to apologise, Sam. I believe the ones who should be apologising for this sorry farce, are these two," Ratchet glared equally at Optimus and Ironhide. "I do not need cheering up with false allegations about Mojo's health." The medic was annoyed. He was about to sizzle a few circuits.

"Opps..." Optimus muttered quietly, shifting his weight uneasily on his feet and sneaking a sideways conspiratorial glance with a bowed head at his Weapons Specialist.

Ironhide grunted, gesturing at the medic, "C'mon Ratch, you needed something to get your CPU out of its depressive mood. You can't deny you were missing the rodent's company, you weren't going to visit him without a reason – so we made one!"

"Ironhide, shut it!" Ratchet snapped.

"Ratchet, please, we were-" Optimus tried to explain.

"I don't want to hear it!" Ratchet hissed, "Leave, get out of my medbay, and don't come back in unless stasis lock is imminent!"

"Not even if Mojo calls for you?" Ironhide asked softly.

Ratchet threw a tool at him with a scowl. Ironhide lifted his arm just in time and it bounced off his armor. "Aww, you still love me!"

"OUT!" Ratchet growled.

"Going, going. Cranky bolthead," Ironhide muttered, pushing a slow Bumblebee ahead of him. Bumblebee resisted being pushed and smacked a hand backwards onto Ironhide's chest. The Specialist retaliated with a casual back-handed smack to the rear of Bumblebee's head. Indignant, Bee halted and turned to start a fistfight.

Optimus growled, pushing between them sharply with his massive physique, "Stop it you two! Outside, now!"

Bumblebee 'eeeped' and went to tiptoe around the outside of Optimus, ducking down and using his towering Leader as coverage against Ironhide taking angry swipes at him. Abruptly, he popped his head around Prime's bulk and blew a digital raspberry at Ironhide, sprinting forwards before the older warrior could deal out a spanking.

"YOUNGLING! Insubordination! Come back here!" Ironhide yelled, bringing his cannons on-line with whirring gyros.

Sam tripped over his own feet from watching the comedy going on over his head, and trying not to get stomped on from the three pairs of big feet in such close proximity. Bumblebee suddenly realised this, marching back smartly and scooping Sam up off the floor with a disgusted look at his comrades for jeopardising the safety of his charge.

Optimus directed a spitting-mad Ironhide and snickering Bumblebee to leave with one angrily pointed arm and a disappointed expression marring his faceplates, he then gave Ratchet one long sorrowful last glance and followed the rest of his team out the medbay door with heavy steps. The door shut behind them with an angry 'thunk'.

Ironhide and Bumblebee continued to bicker. Even Sam was joining the warriors spat.

Optimus blocked out the juvenile ruckus, standing in the rec room and thinking, his optics dimming. He needed to do something about all this. As Leader, it was up to him to patch up the relationship between Ratchet and Judy Witwicky. He would need to visit Sam's home and try to negotiate a truce. He wouldn't let Sam go back home to face the hysterical female on his own. He needed back-up.

He lifted his head, looking up, "Ironhide! Stop!" he commanded abruptly, seeing his senior officer acting like a complete short-sparked youngling.

"Huh?" Ironhide paused in the act of throwing a few empty tins of energon at the yellow scout, who was on the floor with Sam and using the various chairs and tables of the rec room as cover. Sam had taken off his t-shirt and was waving it over his head in surrender. Bumblebee squealed, snatching the t-shirt down - they would not surrender!!

"No fighting in the rec room, I expect better behaviour than this." Optimus said to the pair in a very disappointed tone with narrowed optics. Bumblebee's sweet blue optics blinked at him cautiously from over the top of the Autobot couch.

Ironhide paused, thinking, then tossed the last energon can anyway. Bumblebee and Sam ducked hastily.

"HIDE!" Optimus spluttered. Just what did he have to do to keep control of his base? What had happened to his dedicated and in-control warriors since they'd landed on Earth?!

"Neh. Finished. Out of ammo now anyway." Ironhide dropped himself into a chair, stretching his legs out. "So, what are we going to do now?" he asked calmly.

Optimus Prime blew air out of his intakes in a low sigh, his body drooping slightly, his optics moving to look at each occupant of the room. "I will accompany Sam back to his home and attempt to have a sensible conversation with his parents about this."

"Huh. Better take a fully charged rifle, that female sounds dreadfully angry." Ironhide scratched at his left cannon lazily, picking off black pieces of residual plasma.

"You're going to come with me? Really?" Sam asked hopefully up at Optimus, coming out from behind the couch. Wow, his Mom verses Optimus Prime! Bumblebee followed him out on all fours, standing up with clunking hydraulics.

Bee's head tilted to the side, a questioning look on his face, "Shall I come too, Sir?" his very scratchy voice synthesiser emitted. He'd added the 'sir' when he usually didn't since he thought Optimus had reached the end point of his and Ironhide's playful behaviour.

Optimus nodded, "If Sam wishes you to accompany us."

Sam cried out, spinning round and locking his arms around Bee's leg, "You're coming, you're coming, you're coming," he panted repeatedly. Bumblebee reached down and patted Sam's back reassuringly.

"Bumblebee's going," Ironhide said dryly, "Call me if you femmebot's need back-up, 'kay?"

Barely one Earth hour later, Optimus Prime and Bumblebee were rumbling down the back alleyway to Sam's place, headlights streaking the pavement with bright white light. It was late evening, approaching Sam's curfew time. Sam was riding in Optimus Prime's cab (much to Bumblebee's disappointment) and discussing the situation with the sympathetic Commander.

"Remember, talk to Dad first. He's much more easy-going than Mom, he'll help us get through to her," Sam was reminding the Autobot Leader as they slowed to a stop, brakes hissing and creaking.

"Yes, Sam." He swung his cab door open, waiting for the boy to climb down.

On the back porch of the house, Mojo perked his little ears. There were cars out in the laneway... were they more of his car friends? He ruffed to himself, popping out of his basket and trotting down the stairs. He paused on the driveway, looking out the gate. He wasn't supposed to leave the driveway, it was forbidden to go into the alleyway – but his Sam was there!

"Bark! Barkbark!" Mojo rushed out the gate, running over to where Sam was climbing down from Optimus.

"Mo! Mojo!" Sam said happily, reaching down to pat and stroke the excited dog. "Did Ratchet come visit you? Did he? Did he? What a lucky Mojo!" Sam crooned.

Bumblebee's scanners picked up the movement of another organic. Definitely not Decepticon origin. Too small to be a human, must be another animal, Bee thought, keeping track of the signal. It was getting closer. How small was too small to be dangerous?

"Sam," Bumblebee croaked.

"Who's a cute dog! Who's the bestest dog in the whole world!" Sam didn't hear Bee's warning.

"SAM!" Bumblebee shouted desperately, moving his carform forwards around Optimus.

Mojo squealed in terror as a dark black shape tore out of the opposite driveway and lunged straight at him. Sam screamed. The Riley's Doberman was out! "SHIT! Mojo! No!" he tried to grab Mojo but the Chihuahua was out of there! He ran underneath Optimus Prime's truck form, yelping madly.

"What the-" Optimus rumbled, startled. Mojo was trying to scramble up into his undercarriage behind his second pair of wheels, while Dave; the Doberman dog; was frantically pushing his taller form underneath as well, determined to get Mojo.

"IKE, IKE, IKE!" Mojo squealed, wriggling upwards.

"WOOOOOOF!" Dave growled, spitting and biting, flashing big teeth.

"OH SHIT! OH SHIT! Dave! Get out of there!" Sam was yelling, trying to get the courage to grab Dave by his stumpy tail and pull him out from underneath Prime. Only the dog's wriggling bottom was visible now, the rest of him was shoved underneath Optimus' truckform. Dave hated Mojo, he was okay with humans, but he had a real thing for Mojo. Pure evil.

"OW! Mojo! Not there!" Optimus gasped. Mojo was pushing too far upwards, his nose was rubbing against delicate wiring inside the shell of the cab from below and was causing alternating currents of pleasure and pain. Mojo didn't care, he just wanted to save his own ass! "Sam quick, get him!" Prime said urgently.

"I can't reach!" Sam cried, now kneeling on the opposite side of the truck from Dave and trying to see where Mojo was.

Prime was getting desperate. He couldn't move, he'd hurt Mojo. "Bumblebee! Assist him!" he commanded.

On cue, Bumblebee transformed, rushing forwards to help Sam. The boy was lying on the ground, arms anxiously trying to reach Mojo – there just wasn't enough room for Sam to move. The dog was too far up! Bumblebee considered lifting Prime up by using his hand under his front bumper bar, the boy could crawl in underneath – no, no, if he dropped Prime on Sam... Primus... and besides, lifting Prime would give Dave room to run in and grab Mojo too. Bumblebee didn't have enough hands to do everything.

Dave gave up on getting Mojo from the other side. He yanked his body out with a grunt and loped on long legs around to the other side of the truck. He barked angrily in Sam's ear.

"ARGGGGGHHHH! Sam screamed, yanking his hands out from under Prime, realising how close Dave was.

"Sam!" Bumblebee slammed his big foot down next to the dog. Dave yelped and ducked away – jumping on top of Prime's rear cab section! "Woof! WOOFWOOFWOOF!"

"Oh, great." Optimus sighed. One underneath, one on top. "OW! Mojo, get out!" Mojo had frozen underneath a cluster of wires leading up to the Autobot Leader's spark. The Chihuahua was trembling, causing vibrations. It was ticklish. Optimus started to rumble with chuckles, "Ha! Hahahahaaaa!"

"What?" Sam looked up, startled by the sound. Was that Optimus... laughing?

"Mojo, M-Mojo, where h-h-he is, TICKLISH," Optimus gasped between trying to not laugh, "Touching spark wiring!" The flame covered truck shook, deep squeals and forced laughter coming from it. The chains on the back of the cab clinked in time with the rumbling.

Bumblebee giggled, leaning over with his hands on his knees. Oh Primus. A giggling Optimus Prime. Ironhide should've been here for this, he just wouldn't believe it!

"Bee, help! We have to get Mojo out!" Sam frantically waved his arms around. They'd forgotten about Dave for the moment. Dave reminded them.

"WOOF! WOOFWOOFWOOF! Snarl!" he yelled at them from atop the still-laughing Optimus.

"ARGH!" Sam ducked backwards, stumbling over his sneaker-clad feet and landing on his butt with a grunt. From his hiding place, through a slit in Optimus Prime's armor encased cab, Mojo saw Sam hit the ground. "Bark!" he yelped, jumping down and racing over to Sam, worried.

"WOOOOOF!" Dave barked in victory, seeing his prey, leaping off the rear cab section.

Mojo screamed, ducking away from Dave's jaws and taking off in a rapid circle around Optimus Prime's truck form, Dave following close behind. Bumblebee stepped back, watching the dogs run in circles, confused about what to do now. They were too fast for him to grab onto! Sam ran after Mojo, yelling for Dave to stop. The Chihuahua was more agile around the turns but Dave was catching up on the straights.

"Enough already!" Optimus thundered deeply, finally reaching the end of his heralded patience. He began his transformation, his truck form rearing upwards and changing into his immense robot form. The dogs didn't appear to notice too much, they widened their mad circling to encompass Sam and Bumblebee as well.

Giving up on the whole crazy situation, Sam pulled out of running after Dave and stood close to Bumblebee, panting, one hand holding onto his metal leg for support, "Oh my god... this is so nuts," he muttered.

Transformation finished, the Autobot Commander stared down at the mad dogs running in circles. No more of this nonsense! He reached over his shoulder and removed his oversized rifle from his back. Waiting for Mojo to run past him safely first, he put his finger on the trigger, hearing the reassuring whine of the powerpack cells rapidly charging to fire. Choosing the moment, legs braced, he leaned down and pointed the rifle end right in front of the running larger dog, "STOP!" he ordered.

Dave yelped, throwing on the dog brakes and sliding to a stop. He blinked up at the huge _thing _leaning over him looking angry. "Yelp! Yelpyelpyelp..." Dave took cover, running away across the road to the safety of his own house, disappearing.

Mojo, getting his bravado back, trotted over to be in front of Optimus, adding his own comments at the departing dog, "Bark! Barkbark! Ruff!"

One hand still holding the rifle, Prime looked down at the tiny dog with twinkling optics, "Well, you certainly told him where to go, Mojo."

"Thanks Prime! God you're useful to have around!" Sam said, walking over and patting the huge robot on the leg. "I'm sorry Mojo, er, made you laugh, up there, wherever he was. Wish Mikaela had been here to see that."

Prime shook his head, placing his rifle back onto its mountings between his shoulders with practised ease. "The less said the better about this incident. At least we were here to defend our new Autobot."

"New Autobot?" Sam blinked. "Oh, right, the symbol thing on his collar. Yeah."

Bumblebee looked around cautiously. It was bad enough he had transformed, but Optimus was by far the taller one! They could be seen! He made frantic motions with his hands to his Leader.

Optimus looked at him, turning his head to one side, optic shields blinking in one sweep downwards, "What is it, Bumblebee?"

Bee jumped up and down in place, making downwards motions with his fluttering hands. Sam sighed, and reached out to smack Bumblebee on the leg, "Speak, dummy!"

"Transform! Can be seen!" Bee finally squeaked.

"OH! Yes." Optimus nodded and stepped back, his body twisting and changing into his truck form. Bumblebee; being much shorter, crept down the Witwicky's driveway in robot form, leaning over to not be too tall. He sat down with a sigh onto the lawn, Mojo running up beside him and leaping onto his leg with a happy bark. Bee patted the dog with smiling optics – what a good soldier the dog was!

"Damn, time to face the music," Sam muttered with dread, sneaking a look at the huge truck following him slowly down the driveway. It parked in front of the porch.

"Go ahead, Sam. Ask them to come outside." Optimus' gentle reassuring voice gave him strength.

"Yeah, okay," Head down, Sam plodded up the stairs to his doom with his mother.


	4. Chapter 4

**Tales of Mojo 'Superdog'**

**Chapter Four **

Judy Witwicky was humming to herself in the kitchen. She had muffin ingredients spread out all over the 'island' in the middle of the room. When under stress – bake. She was regretting her major outburst at that poor robot; whatshisname, the one that was an ambulance rescue vehicle. With a big collision bar on the front. She was going to ask Sam what his name was when he returned.

"Mom?" Sam's hesitant voice was only soft yet she still dropped her baking tray on the bench with a startled clang.

"Sam! Oh thank god, honey," she wiped her hands on her shirt (she didn't like aprons, too Martha Stewart for her tastes). "C'mere!" she beckoned him over to her with one waving hand, intending to kiss and smack him at the same time. A kiss for love, and a smack for endangering her beloved dog with big robots.

"Ah, no, Mom, there is someone I wanted you to talk to." Sam kept the kitchen door open nervously with one hand braced on the frame while he looked around the room, "Where's Dad?"

"In the lounge room, with his wine. Why?" Judy blinked at him, one hand fluffing a stray hair out of her face.

"Get him for me? Please? I'd like to talk to you guys outside." Sam waited for her to reply. She'd either start screaming again or do as he asked. If she screamed, he was so totally jumping into Optimus and locking the doors. Prime was armored. His Mom was so not getting in no matter what she shot or hit him with.

"Okay, sure, I'll go get him, if that's what you want." Judy was treading carefully.She knew she needed to learn to keep her anger in check.

"Thanks..." Sam breathed a relieved sigh, backing out of the door and moving over to stand on the edge of the porch. Bumblebee was still sitting on the ground, petting Mojo, the house lights reflecting off his armor. Optimus was sitting patiently in his truck form. Oh shit, his front wheels were squashing the lawn. "Optimus, quick, back up dude, don't park on the grass-"

"Oh my god!" Judy gasped.

Too late. His Mom was standing behind him, freaking out and flapping her hands. "They're back again! Ron! Quick! Get out here!"

Sam turned around to look at his father while Optimus rolled backwards a little, rolling silently. He couldn't figure out how they did that without turning on their engines. Batteries or something? Like a Toyota Prius?

"Yep," Ron sighed, eyeing off the Autobots in his backyard while taking a sip of red wine from the glass in his hand, "they're back. Evening Bumblebee."

The yellow mech gave a small happy wave. Act casual, seem innocent and innocuous. Don't scare the parental units...

"Who is the truck again? The boss, ain't he?" Ron continued, staring at the huge trailerless rig. Optimus had almost made it completely back onto the driveway. One wheel was still a teeny bit on the grass. Mr Witwicky, feeling far more relaxed than his wife, decided not to mention it. This time.

Sam opened his mouth but Optimus spoke up for him, his commanding voice coming from somewhere out of his chassis. "My name is Optimus Prime, and you are correct, I am the Leader. Please forgive me for staying in my truck mode and not transforming, unlike Bumblebee I am much too tall and would be easily seen by your neighbours. Do you mind if we have a small discussion about past events?"

Judy ignored his polite gentle request, walking down the steps to stand in front of his huge grill curiously, "You're not the one I hit with the bat!"

Optimus grunted, "Certainly not. That was Ratchet, our CMO." A female smacking him around with a stick would have to be the last indignity Optimus would ever allow himself to suffer on this planet.

"CMO? What's a CMO?" Judy crossed her arms underneath her bosom, standing firm. She was not going to let this big thing scare her into backing off.

"Chief Medical Officer. Our doctor, of sorts."

Sam moved carefully around his parents standing in front of Optimus Prime, going to stand next to his Guardian, Bumblebee, and Mojo. The dog leapt off his perch on Bumblebee's crossed ankle joint and trotted to Sam.

"The reason I am here is to explain about Mojo, your dog."

Judy grunted, controlling herself. That was still a hot subject. "Go on."

"You must understand how responsible and considerate we were in caring for him. Our base was modified to his needs-"

Sam snorted into one hand, muffling his mouth. Bumblebee poked at his back with one finger, giving him a mock glare. Setting up a pen in Ratchet's medbay was 'modifying' the base? Yeah, right.

Optimus continued, "Mojo was fed, watched over diligently, given a warm place to sleep, walked twice a day-"

"WALKED?! How on Earth did you walk him?! You're robots, taller than a building!" Judy burst out, waving both hands in the air madly.

"You walked Mojo?!" Mr Witwicky said with awe, leaning forwards and blinking at the truck.

"We had a leash, Sam showed us everything." Optimus stayed calm. Never let your opponent ruffle you, no matter what they came up with. No squishing the humans.

Judy was silent for a moment. The humans held their breaths while the robots stayed still and silent. The woman narrowed her eyes at the truck, "Did YOU walk him?"

"Er... yes. I had to."

At that both Sam and Bumblebee fell over themselves on the lawn, the boy shrieking madly with hysteria while Bee's body convulsed with a squeaking fit, the Autobot lying down with his legs up in the air, hands drawn into his chest.

Mr Witwicky chuckled, waving his almost empty glass at the pair on the lawn, "Boy, that must have been some walk."

Judy ignored the circus on the lawn. She was beginning to understand what this robot was trying to explain. "If you walked Mojo, I think that was punishment enough. He's a devil to walk." She started to grin. Ah, so what, Mojo came back in one piece, and the robots appeared very taken with him. They liked him. Mojo certainly loved Bumblebee, at any rate.

"Did Mojo do his toilet duties correctly as well?" the woman asked with a twinkle in her eye.

Optimus sighed, shifting on his suspension. If it made the female feel better to know all the humiliations the Autobots went through while minding the dog... "Mostly. He did make a mess in my quarters, although I do believe that had more to do with Ironhide leaving my door open while I recharged that night. Mojo dirtied my floor and took the liberty of sleeping on my chest."

This statement sent the boy and smaller Autobot into another fit of giggling laughter. Ratchet had spent the next few days after that incident making loud sniffing noises whenever Optimus walked past, alluding to the mighty warrior stepping in the errant dog poo and being unable to get rid of the smell from his feet.

Judy squeaked, covering her nose and mouth with her hands. She slowly started to laugh. "Now I don't feel so bad! It sounds like a good time was had by all." She was conveniently forgetting Ratchet's comment about Mojo being tossed into the air so he vomited. "Oh well, let's forgive and forget, whatever," she hiccuped, and patted a hand to her upper chest. She'd had too much to drink. "Can you say sorry to that other robot I smacked around? I did get too rough with him, I hope he's not, um, injured or anything. Anyway, you've got Band-Aids or something, right? Promise me you'll tell him I'm sorry!"

"Of course, I promise to do so. I must now return to the base. Thank you for being so understanding about this awkward situation," Optimus started his engine, filling the backyard with deep diesel noises.

"Bye Optimus! Thanks!" Sam stood up from rolling on the ground, picking up Mojo so the little dog could wave a paw (with Sam manipulating it). Bumblebee rolled over onto his front, propping his chin on one hand and waving at his departing Leader with his free hand.

"Goodbye Mojo, Bee, everyone," Optimus acknowledged, flashing his lights as he backed up into the alleyway slowly.

Contemplative silence settled over the yard as the big truck rumbled away.

"Nice robot, he didn't threaten to squash you or anything, Judy, for beating up his soldier," Ron said, carefully lifting up his poor flattened grass with the toes of one foot.

Judy didn't answer, turning on one foot to direct a firm stare at her son, "Samuel Witwicky!" she began, sounding dangerous.

"Oh shit... I knew this was coming..." Sam nervously backed up into Bumblebee, hands reaching behind himself to grab onto his Guardian's bulky armor. Bee snickered. Who was the coward now? Still, he casually reached out one long arm and softly wrapped it around his boy, making him feel safe. Sam hooked his hands onto Bee's arm, using it as a barrier. He gulped as his Mom approached, leaning back into Bumblebee's supportive shoulder. "Shouldn't you stand up or something?" Sam hissed urgently at his Autobot.

"Negative!" Bumblebee's abrasive voice responded.

"Get your cannon thing out, man!"

Bumblebee's optics shone brightly, amused, "No, Sam."

Too late. Judy got her face right up into her son's, causing the poor boy to lean back painfully, "The next time aliens visit this planet and you decide to leave Mojo in their care, CALL ME FIRST!"

"Yes Mom, sorry Mom, will phone you, yes," Sam winced.

Judy softened her gaze, looking at the yellow robot behind her son, "Bumblebee dear, I think we should get you a proper garage or something, we can't leave you on the grass every night. Ron! Let's build a nice new shed for Bumblebee!" The woman perked up, all excited by having something new to plan.She was imagining planting petunia's and pansy's around it and hanging plants in baskets from the roof edges. Lovely!

Sam nudged a foot against a bemused Bumblebee, "Say yes, and tell them you want it big enough so I can move in with you!" he whispered urgently.

Bumblebee's optics paled. He'd seen the state of Sam's room through the window many times. His room upstairs was a mess! Stuff all over the place! He couldn't live with such disarray! "Only if you keep it tidy and clean, Sam," Bee said gently. "And yes Mrs Witwicky, somewhere proper to recharge would indeed be wonderful. I am grateful for your offer. Thank you."

"Gosh, these aliens are so polite and tidy, aren't they Ron?" Judy beamed at her odd family happily.

"Oh yeah," Ron burped contentedly. One new shed for the alien, coming up.


	5. Chapter 5

**Tales of Mojo 'Superdog'**

**Chapter Five **

_Witwicky residence, Tranquillity. _

"Look, look, this is a nice one," Ron Witwicky held up the brochure, letting Bumblebee get a better look at it. Mr Witwicky was trying to help Bumblebee decide what type of building he wanted for his garage/house thing in their backyard. Judy Witwicky had decided that the Guardian of their only son could no longer make do with sleeping on their lawn at night. It was time to build him his own place to sleep. Sam had been trying to correct his parents when they made references to Bumblebee 'sleeping', telling them it was recharge, not sleep. His parents tuned him out.

Sitting politely on the lawn in the backyard while Ron talked to him, Bumblebee tilted his head sideways, thinking. All of the residential structures in the photographs were made of organic wood. He was wondering how to explain that he would prefer a residence made of _metal_. Wood was flammable, prone to leaking, lacked strength and was absolutely no good at repelling weapons fire. One shot from a passing Decepticon and the thing would be a bonfire – with him and Sam trapped inside it.

"RON!"

Mr Witwicky flinched at his wife's sudden scream:: What now?:: "What is it Judy?" he answered pleasantly back, looking over his shoulder at the woman on porch.

"I need Bumblebee to take me to the vet. They just called, Mojo has woken from his sedative and is ready for pick-up."

Mojo had gone for his annual check-up that morning, and had been kept over lunchtime while he had his teeth cleaned and scaled; a procedure which required sedation strong enough to keep the dog still and calm.

Bumblebee started to get to his feet, "Certainly Mrs Witwicky, I'm ready."

Ron rubbed at his forehead. The woman had a memory like a tea strainer. "Judy, Ironhide is picking him up, remember? He's on his way back from the Lennox's, and he wants to talk to Bee. He's passing the vets on the way through."

"Oh." Judy crinkled her nose, putting a finger to her chin in thought. "Yes, now I remember. He's using his fake human thing, right? Not just turning up as a robot at the vet?"

Bumblebee gently corrected her, "It's his hologram, Mrs Witwicky, not a fake human. There will be no problem."

"Oh yes, how sweet! Such impressive technology these days. I can't keep up with what young people invent lately... Mojo will be so happy to be home..." Judy kept talking to herself, walking back into the house.

Ron Witwicky quirked an eyebrow at Bumblebee as the robot settled himself back down onto the ground. "She's really quite intelligent, you know. She just has a, uh, a strange mouth. She also talks way too much." His eyes were pleading for understanding from the Autobot. My wife isn't stupid, she's just weird!

Bumblebee gave him the faintest of optic flashes in agreement, nodding once. He carefully plucked the brochure out of Mr Witwicky's hands, "Are there any metallic structures in this book?" he asked hopefully.

_At the Veterinary Clinic..._

Ironhide turned into the driveway of the designated residence for the animal doctor – the Vet. Parking next to a surprisingly similar SUV, he activated his hologram and got out of himself; a black, menacing, GMC Topkick; with several grunts. He headed for the front door of the small building, muttering, "Rodent's don't need doctors they need pest exterminators. Optimus is going to end up in the infernal Pit for making me do this, damn slagger has a stupid sense of humor..."

He shoved open the front door with one large hand. A distasteful expression marred the roughly handsome looks of his human holoform (unlike simple Earth holograms, a Cybertronian hologram was very real, it was solid).

The nurse at the front desk began to ask, "Name, please?" as she looked up from her computer. Then her mouth fell open. Wow! What a hunk! She stared adoringly at the man standing in front of the desk. So cute!

"I'm here to pick-up the rodent. Er, the Mojo. MOJO. My... _dog_." Ironhide stumbled over his words. He shouldn't let on to this female how much he didn't love the dog. This facility was obviously a place where its occupants loved animals.

The nurse raised an eyebrow and put on a sexy pout, "Surname of Mojo, please?"

"What? His name is Mojo, what the heck is a – oh." Ironhide's processors were informing of the custom involving surnames. "Witwicky," he grudgingly said.

"Thank you," the nurse responded sweetly. "I'll just be a moment. Please take a seat." She ducked out into another room.

Ironhide stared after where the human female had disappeared to, leaning over the counter bench. "Take a seat? I don't want to take a seat anywhere! I'm not here to pick-up a seat, I want to pick-up the dog! Ugh." He folded his arms across his large chest, grumbling.

The nurse in the next room grabbed at another woman sitting at a bench running samples, "Shelly! Oh my god, you have GOT to see this guy! He's a dream! Look, look!" The aforementioned Shelly was dragged from her seat and had her face shoved to peer through a crack in the door.

Shelly pulled back from the door and raised her eyebrows at the man standing at the desk. "Yeah, he's nice. Don't get your hopes up Ronda, any man that good looking is normally gay."

"Phhhhtt! You're too pessimistic, girl." Ronda ran her eyes over the gorgeous rear end of the man. Tight, high butt, close-fitting blue jeans. Black boots. Faded black t-shirt. Dark floppy hair hanging over his forehead and brooding eyes. Yum. "I better get Mojo."

"Mojo? That must be Sam at the front desk then. Judy said she might send her son to get Mojo." The woman went back to testing blood and urine samples. Yes, the man was nice, but she had a boyfriend and she was very happy with him, although he didn't look anything like the guy at the front desk. Looks weren't everything.

"Ooo! You know his name! Sam. Thanks!" Ronda dashed off to get Mojo from the rear surgery section of the hospital.

Ironhide arched an eyebrow at the nurse coming through the swinging door carrying Mojo. He looked closer at the females face. She had done something to it. Her lips were now shiny red and her eyes were rimmed with black.

"Here's Mojo for you, Sam," the woman purred, letting one of her hands caress down his arm at the same time she handed over Mojo.

He gingerly took the dog. Mojo was held at arm's length on stiff hesitant arms. The dog 'ruffed' hello at him, small black eyes blinking. "...Thanks." His voice dripped with reluctance. He ignored the woman calling him 'Sam', it was as good a disguise as any for the human to believe he really was Sam Witwicky.

"Disgusting," Ironhide muttered, pushing open the exit door with his shoulder and walking into the carpark. Mojo was still dangling from his hands like a rag doll.

Ironhide settled the dog into the front seat of his car form, the Topkick. He kept his arms held out straight, a distasteful expression on his holographic human face, not wanting to get TOO close to the canine. Mojo was wagging his tail furiously and trying to lick at Ironhide's hologram.

"Rodent, one touch of that tongue on me and you'll be walking home," Ironhide growled, shutting his door with a hard thump, "Ugh. Revolting."

The warrior walked with thumping steps over to the driver's side of, ahem, himself, keeping up appearances. The tight blue jeans clinging to his human hologram's cute rear end, combined with his good looks, wide muscled chest, brooding dark eyes, and wide grim mouth had made more than one human female's heart flutter. Once settled into the front seat, the hologram vanished, the tint on the windows turning almost black to cover-up for the missing driver.

Mojo barked happily, scrambling up onto the centre console and placing his paws on the dashboard so he could see out the front windscreen. He loved trucks. He also loved his giant metal friend that had rescued him from the nasty vet.

The Topkick's engine growled, the steering wheel spun smoothly of its own accord and Ironhide pulled out into the traffic, smaller vehicles hastily making room for him. "Vomit on my seats, dog, and you'll marvel at the wonders of the front ejection seat combined with the open sunroof."

"BARK!"

"...Whatever."

The trip home began uneventfully. Ironhide was so pre-occupied with keeping an eye on the dog for any peeing or vomiting type activity, he didn't notice when he stopped at a set of traffic lights and Barricade appeared in the lane next to him.

Frenzy decided to enlighten the massive dumb SUV. He hit the window retraction button on his partners armrest, lowering the window. Then he leaned out of it.

"ARGGGGGGGHHHHH! DUMBAUTOBOT!" Frenzy yelled at the top of his synthetic voice.

"WHAT!!!! WHAT!" Ironhide's truck shook with surprise, his scanners flaring to life and alerting him to Barricade's ominous presence. "Frenzy! Slag off, you pit-spawn reject!" he yelled back.

The lights changed and both Autobot and Decepticon surged forwards. Ironhide sneered at the cop car, "Two can play at that little game..." he muttered consolingly to himself. "Hey Mojo, want to look outside?" He asked enticingly and lowered the passenger window.

The car and truck pulled up at the next intersection for the red light, Frenzy was still sitting in Barricade's front seat, making rude finger gestures at Ironhide.

Mojo popped his head over the window ledge and saw Frenzy and Barricade. He launched into a barking session. "BARKBARKBARKBARKBARK!" His jaws were snapping and drool hung down from his snarled back lips. His ears lay flat on his head, making him look bald.

"DOGDOGDOGDOG!" Frenzy shrieked, alarmed, waving his arms. "GOGOGOGO, CADE!"

Barricade grumbled, accelerating through the red light obediently. "Zee, behave, we don't need attention."

"Good dog, Mojo," Ironhide chuckled, watching Barricade disappear into the distance and take a right-hand turn into a side street.

Optimus Prime had reached a tentative agreement with the lone Decepticon Barricade. He was allowed to roam free as long as he adhered to several rules; no killing, harming, terrifying or otherwise interfering with, the humans. Or he would be terminated. Forcefully, with no regrets.

"What the heck... I think we should follow him, don't you?" Ironhide reacted fast and pulled a swift u-turn out of the line of traffic, the Topkick's thick tyres squealing on the asphalt and the truck body leaning over dangerously close to its balance point before dumping its weight evenly back onto all four wheels. He was determined to find out what was going on, and that meant chasing after the stupid slaggers. The sharp turn upset Mojo's balance, sending the dog falling over with a surprised bark onto his side, bouncing on the seat, yelping "IKE!".

"Sorry Mojo..." Hide muttered, contacting Optimus Prime. "Prime! I'm in pursuit of Barricade, he just passed me in traffic. Have you had any suspicious police reports?"

Optimus received the transmission and responded immediately, "No, at this point you know more than I do. Stay with them, I'll see what I can find out. Use deadly force with Barricade if needed."

Ironhide growled, "No need to tell ME that."

"BARK!"

Back at the base, Optimus Prime's optics blinked, he leaned forwards over the communications array, "Did I just hear.. Mojo?"

"BARKBARK! Wuff!"

"SHUT UP, DOG! Affirmative. I have Mojo with me," Ironhide paused while he swerved around some slower cars, continuing his mad pace to catch up with Barricade, "I was delivering him to the Witwickys. I'll keep him safe, you know me."

"Uh, of course." Holy Primus, Ironhide was chasing after Barricade with Mojo in his front seat. It was a pity they had no high grade left in the base... Prime was sure he'd be needing to drink lots of it once this day was done. "Do you need back-up?"

"Prime, do I EVER need back-up?"

"..."

"Good."

Ironhide cursed the limited capability of his engine in this truck form. Barricade had turned onto a freeway on-ramp. Ironhide was getting the best out of his Earth based Topkick engine, Cybertronian technology had enhanced it somewhat, but it still wasn't as good as Barricade's Mustang Saleen engine.

Now the fun was starting. There was little traffic, and the Decepticon car was accelerating with abandon, its engine a high-pitched whine and a clear smooth path in front of it for miles ahead. Realising he was going to be left behind, Ironhide did some swift (and dangerous) on-the-fly adjustments to his engine using his morphing technology to scan some passing sports cars. It wasn't easy, and Ratchet was going to have fits of unbelievable proportions, but it gave his engine a renewed surge of power with the added component. Smirking to himself at being so clever (who said he was thicker than a tri-titanium re-enforcement plate?) he drew himself up alongside Barricade, noting his speed as going close to 300 mph.

"Explain yourself or be forced off the road," Ironhide growled to the Mustang over the comlink, drawing close to Barricade's side. Much too close for cars going so fast. For a moment there was no response. The Decepticon was quietly shocked that the old cranky bucket of bolts was keeping up with him, that must be some engine he had in that chassis.

"I'm minding my own business, Autoglitch. What are YOU doing?" Barricade snarled.

Ironhide went to form a suitably offensive answer when his comlink buzzed.

"IRONHIDE! Moron! Where's my dog?! The vet said you left there an hour ago!" Sam's voice screeched.

"I've found Barricade, I am in pursuit," Ironhide growled irritably.

"You WHAT? Not with my dog, you're not! Bring him back! Now! Mojo does not take part in criminal activities!" Sam had arrived home from school to find Ironhide and the dog missing and his Mom starting to freak out that they were taking so long.

The GMC Topkick continued to keep pace with the Mustang for a few seconds more, then began to slow down. The Autobot miserably watched the Decepticon draw away into the distance. An opportunity lost. "Fine, fine, we're coming home." He took the next off-ramp, heading for the Witwicky's place.

Mojo was sitting uneasily in the front seat. His tummy didn't feel good. The truck was exciting but only for a short time. He'd been in there for an hour now, and he'd had enough. His little eyes closed and his abdomen rumbled. He did a dry retch, mouth open. Gagging.

"Oh no... don't you dare, dog! We're almost there!" Frantic, knowing what was about to happen, Ironhide accelerated down the suburban road, sliding sideways with abused tyres into the rear alleyway of the Witwicky's place.

Mojo spewed. A disgusting mixture of dog biscuits and bile ejected onto Ironhide's front seat and dripped onto the floor. The dog grunted, licking his lips. Now he felt better! He panted, smiling.

Sam approached the silent Topkick carefully where it had pulled up and parked in the driveway. Then the sunroof retracted, a mysterious whirring noise came from inside the truck and Mojo was ejected yelping into the air through the roof!

"No, no, no, no!" Sam screamed, "BUMBLEBEE!"

"I've got you!" Bee lunged forwards with both hands and caught the poor frightened dog. Standing up again, Bumblebee glared threats at the senior Autobot. He put Mojo in one hand and landed a hard smack on the Topkick's solid roof. Ironhide ignored the angry Camaro.

"BOY! Get cleaning cloths NOW! I've got... I've got... _stuff_ all over my seat!" Ironhide squealed, shaking on his suspension. "Get it off!!" Both doors on the truck sprang open. The smell was obvious. As was the muck on the seat.

Sam blinked, mouth open. He put both hands to his face, "Oh, _gross_, man."

Bumblebee's optics shone with mirth. "You should have taken more care with your driving, 'Hide. Organics don't like to be terrified."


	6. Chapter 6

**Tales of Mojo 'Superdog' **

Authors Note: Kudo's to Plenoptic for keeping me inspired with her brilliant Optimus/Elita, Ironhide/Chromia fics. There's always a new chapter waiting for me when I get home from work. And thanks for giving my main mech, Ultra Magnus, a nice femme to be friends with in her fanfic! Ta!

**Chapter 6 **

_Witwicky residence, late evening._

"Mr Witwicky... Mrs Witwicky... saying 'thank you' could never be enough." Bumblebee's emotions swelled within his pulsing spark and threatened to overflow. "This is one of the most amazing things anyone has ever done for me."

Ron and Judy Witwicky beamed up at their alien visitor.

"We're glad you like it, Bumblebee. And truly, we're thanking YOU for looking after our Sam." Ron Witwicky said with a touch of emotion in his voice. Judy nodded, agreeing with him. She had her hands clasped in front of her chest, gleefully planning the number of flowers she was going to surround the new building with. Petunia's, Pansies, maybe some climbing roses on the lattice...

Sam laughed, pushing a hand against Bumblebee's yellow armored leg. "It's a _garage_, Bee! Cars are meant to have a garage, so now you've got one. Dad, where's the remote for the door?"

"Here, got it, in my pocket, uh, somewhere," Sam's dad felt around in his pocket. "Damn, it's not here, where'd I put it? Judy? You got it?"

Without any prompting from the humans, the garage door rose smoothly up into the air, retracting back into the roofline.

"No need, Mr Witwicky, I have my own custom control mechanism built-in." Bumblebee informed them with a distinct twinkle in his bright optics. He sent another signal to the garage control box and the door closed again. And opened once more.

Ron blinked, impressed, "Can you do that to the TV too?"

They all heard the volume on the plasma screen in the lounge room go right up, then drop down again. The sound changed as the channels got flicked over.

"Oh. Very good." Ron grinned. Judy had gotten sick of his constant channel surfing and hidden the remote. It didn't matter now, Bumblebee was his new defence!

"Haha, yeah, yeah, show-off," Sam smirked at Bee, crossing his arms and rocking on his feet.

The 'garage' was actually more of a small house. The Witwicky's had arranged for the new garage to be fitted out as a small home for Sam. He would be moving out of the main house and living in it with his best friend Bee. It was a two level building, and while it was only a single width wide (wide enough for one car only), it was long enough to provide space for Sam's needs as well. The roof height was just tall enough for Bumblebee to stand up inside of it, as long as he stayed away from the walls of the room where the roof sloped downwards.

According to Bumblebee's wishes for a metal structure, and with the Witwicky's wanting something which blended-in with the main house, the exterior of the garage was encased in wooden slotted, over-lapping panels painted a dull brown. Underneath was a sturdy metal frame and thick metal panels (which had been retro-fitted by some very confused tradesmen). Judy had seen fit to add cute wooden window shutters and planter boxes to the downstairs windows. The whole effect added-up to something like a demented Swiss Chalet.

Behind the garage portion was a lounge room/kitchenette/bathroom area. On the next level up, in a loft arrangement within the ceiling space, was Sam's bedroom. One end of it was open with a small railing so Sam could look directly down on Bumblebee.

Ratchet had promised to build and arrange the installation of some stealthy transforming (but of course!) Autobot-sized furniture for Bumblebee. A couch of his own and a recharge bed. The recharge bed would sink down into the garage floor when not in use, and the couch would look like an empty storage locker when not being sat upon.

Mojo yawned and got up from his position sitting next to his dad, Ron Witwicky. Mumbling doggy words to himself, he went to sniff around the new garage. He got a nose full of fumes from the glue the tradesmen had used in the wooden slats. Errr! The dog gagged and coughed. That wasn't so good.

"Mojo! Mojo, come here! Look! Look what you've got!" Sam kneeled next the human door on the wall of the garage. "You've got a dog door, you can come and go when ever you like." He pushed his hand on it, making the small door swing back and forth.

Mojo ruffed and trotted over to his Sam, the Autobot symbol on his collar clinking next to his dog jewellery (Judy had re-instated his 'bling' around his neck). Good naturedly, the little dog put up with Sam pushing him backwards and forwards through the dog door; demonstrating to Mojo that this was his entrance/exit.

Bumblebee looked on, quietly glad the humans hadn't insisted he transform and then pushed _him _in and out of the garage door to show him how it worked!

Eventually, Mr and Mrs Witwicky bid them goodnight, and went back inside the main house.

Sam walked inside his new house, followed by a happy Bumblebee. He had a new home of his own at last! Bee inspected the interior, gently running his hands over the metal inserts. Sam went up the wooden stairs set into the wall.

"PILLOW FIGHT!"

A cushion-type object came flying down at his head. Bumblebee blinked his optics as the thing hit his forehead and bounced off. "What?"

"Pillow fight, Bee! It's tradition!" Sam cackled.

Another 'pillow' came sailing over the ledge of Sam's bedroom. This time Bee caught it in one hand. He did a swift internet check. A pillow was a soft cushion used for resting your head upon. Oh. He narrowed his optics in mock-anger at Sam.

"Sam, I believe I am at a disadvantage, since I am yet to acquire the 'pillow' from my own recharge platform at the Autobot base. My headrest is much bigger than yours..." Bumblebee's optics flashed. "However, there is a lot to be said for improvisation."

Quicker than Sam's human eyes could follow, the pillow was propelled at speed towards Sam's unprotected chest.

::WHOMP::

"Ow! Hey, hey, hey!" Sam gasped from where he had been knocked backwards on his butt onto his own bed. "No fair!" He picked up the pillow, tried to bang it back into a pillow-like shape, and then flung it back at Bumblebee with both hands over his head.

The Autobot predictably caught it, and looked around for the other pillow on the floor at his feet. Picking it up, he now had one pillow weapon in each hand. He looked at Sam, calculating his options.

"Oh shit..." Sam whimpered, beginning to back up against the far wall. He held his arms up to cover his head. Thinking better of it, he dropped one hand down to his crotch. It hovered there protectively.

As anticipated, one pillow hit his head, the other went for his crotch. Hard.

"OW! OW! I give in! No more!" Sam implored, bending over to rub his groin.

"Bumblebee, cease propelling projectiles at the boy. Why are you behaving in such a manner? You could injure him."

Bumblebee looked behind him. Ratchet's Hummer truck form was idling in the driveway. Coming up behind was Ironhide, looking menacing, as always. He'd forgotten about them coming tonight. The yellow bot shrugged, pointing a finger, "He started it. It is tradition to throw stuffed items at other people in a new house, apparently."

Ironhide rolled himself around Ratchet to get a better look, halting in the garage doorway with a growl of his engine. The roof of his Topkick truck form was too tall to enter the door fully. Just his bonnet was inside. "These are your new quarters?" He enquired, sounding unsure. This structure appeared impossible to defend! Access points all over the place, uncovered windows, no pulse cannons on the roof... Ugh.

"BANZAI!!!" With a herculean effort, Sam threw the pillow at Ironhide. It landed smack on his windscreen and slid off slowly.

"See?" Bumblebee helpfully informed the stunned Weapons Specialist.

Gears grinded, hydraulics hissed, metal retracted. Ironhide transformed and crouched in his bipedal form in the garage doorway, one hand on the ground to steady himself. Looking very pissed. "Boy..." he growled. "Items thrown at me get thrown back. With extras." His cannon's did their characteristic gyro whirring.

Ratchet's truck form shook. His emergency lights flashed once. He was _laughing_. "Sam, you should not have done that. Be grateful I'm present to put you back together."

"No, no, no, no! Bee! Help!"

Bumblebee shrugged, unconcerned. "It's just a pillow, you do not need guarding from such an inoffensive object."

"But it's IRONHIDE!" Sam shrieked, looking for cover.

"Of course it is, and you should have refrained from throwing objects at him," Bumblebee replied casually. "Sparklings usually learn this lesson early in life."

Still crouching on one knee, the big black mech picked up the pillow he'd been assaulted with, squashing it between the forefinger and thumb of one hand. He held it up in front of his face, looking disgusted. One optic ridge raised up. "Kid, you require lessons in what objects are more suitable to throw which will do your enemy damage."

"No I don't! No I don't!" Sam squealed, holding his arms over his head again.

"Crotch!" Bumblebee reminded him smoothly. It was also his job to ensure the Witwicky family line continued in the future.

At Bee's prompting, Sam darted a hand down to his delicate regions. He spread his fingers, getting more coverage. His knees came together. A chorus of "Ohshitohshitohshitohshit," came from Sam's lips.

"Bark!"

Sam's body sagged. "Mojo! Oh thank god! Get him, Mo! Wee on him! The bad robot wants to hurt me!"

Ironhide's head swivelled around so fast to look around him, Ratchet swore he could hear one of his neck servo's crack. Mojo was standing next to Ironhide's foot, tail wagging, big dog grin in place. His big friends were here to visit!

Ironhide growled, seeing the dog next to his foot. He began to stand up and move away from the danger zone, then got another idea. He put the pillow between his hands, squeezed hard; flattening it like a pancake; then carefully dropped it right over the dog's head.

"BarkBarkBark?!" Mojo backed up, shaking his head wildly to get the pillow off.

"Heh." Ironhide grinned. Not forgetting Sam, the warrior looked around for something else to throw. Unfortunately, there wasn't much of anything. "Grrrr. Slag it."

"No, no, no, no," Sam chanted. He'd crawled onto his bed and gotten underneath the covers, pulling the blankets and quilt firmly around himself in a ball.

Ironhide looked at the Sam-sized quivering lump on the bed. He turned his attention to Bumblebee, opening up a channel on his comlink, _Bee, can the boy swim?_

Bumblebee's optic ridge's furrowed deeply, _Yes, why? What are you going to do?_

Ironhide's optics narrowed, _The building over the fence has a pool in the backyard._

Bee groaned. Oh no. _Fine, fine, do it if you really have to, but don't HURT him, or I'll hurt YOU! Permanently!_

Ratchet, listening in, added his own threats and warnings to Bumblebee's. _Hurt Sam_ _and you'll be dismantled faster than a toaster, Hide! Those cannon's will be recycled into dart guns!_

_Whatever... _Ironhide shrugged of their warnings and moved forwards on hands and knees as silently as he could. Bumblebee reluctantly moved aside to let the mech get past. The Weapons Specialist reached out with one large encompassing hand – and lifted Sam gently off his bed, holding him within the confines of the blankets.

"HEY!!! HELP! STOP!" Sam stuck his head out of the blanket. "What the hell are you doing?!"

Ironhide didn't respond. Crawling back out of the garage, he stood up, Sam held captive in one hand. Cautiously, he moved over to the backyard fence. He was familiar with pools. He'd landed in one when he'd first arrived on Earth, and some damn kid had called him a 'Fairy'. A 'Tooth Fairy', from memory.

"Nononononono! HELP! Bumblebee, stop him!" Sam was yelling frantically. Where were his parents?! Bumblebee was soooo _DEAD_ for this! How dare he not help!

"Bath time," Ironhide grinned manically. He held his hands over the fence, unfurled the boy's struggling form from the blankets so he wouldn't drown, and let go.

"ARGGGGGH! SHIT!" Sam arms flailed madly.

::SPLASH::

"Is he alright Ratchet?" Ironhide crept back over to the medic, transforming back into his truck form.

"Eh. He's okay. A bit cold, but ok," Ratchet informed him, quickly running remote scans over the boy.

"Good." Ironhide sounded very satisfied. He shook once on his suspension. "No one throws crap at ME."

By now Sam was out of the pool. He was cursing loudly and struggling to get his legs over the fence separating him from his own backyard. Man, his jeans were too tight. And _wet_. Bumblebee went over with thumping steps to aid his young charge. He bent down and offered a hand. Sam took it, grumbling, allowing himself to be brought over the fence and set down carefully.

Then Sam turned and kicked a wet sneaker-clad foot into Bumblebee's lower leg. "Traitor!" he yelled. "Bad guardian!"

"Yes Sam," Bumblebee agreed, "But there isn't a lifeform in the universe that doesn't know to NOT throw things at Ironhide."

"Are you alright, Sam?" Ratchet asked politely.

Sam scowled, slopping over the lawn to the garage. "Yeah, just wet, thanks to Ironbutt here. I need to change, and get a hot shower." He kicked a foot into Ironhide's rear wheel on his way past the evil black mech. "Moron! I'm telling Optimus on you!"

"Go ahead, I'll drop him in the pool too," Ironhide grunted in reply. Earth and it's inhabitants were so damn entertaining. Why hadn't they visited this planet before?


	7. Chapter 7

**Tales of Mojo 'Superdog'**

**Chapter 7 **

_Sam and Bumblebee's new residence at the Witwicky's place... _

"Sam."

Sam Witwicky groaned, covering his face with one hand. "Uh."

"Sam?"

"... go 'way, Bee, no school today... sleep-in..."

The yellow robot carefully propped both hands on the railing of Sam's sleeping loft, his blue optics staring down at Sam's rumpled and sweaty sleeping body on the bed. They had a meeting with Optimus Prime and the others at the Lookout, by 8am. Sam had to get up. Bumblebee had already packed away his recharge bed and finished his morning energon. He was ready to go. Sam wasn't.

The pair of them had been living inside the special garage Sam's parents had built for them for several months now. All was going well. Judy was especially pleased by Bumblebee's propensity to simply grab her young son out of his bed and lift him slowly down to the loft floor when he slept through his alarm clock on school mornings. There was no way Sam could get away with sleeping-in past getting up time when there was a big hand hovering over his head waiting to grab his lazy ass. Bumblebee stood over his charge while he ate a hurried breakfast (Sam didn't often eat breakfast on school days, but now that Bumblebee was in charge, he had muesli with fruit – a disgusting concoction meant for constipated old people, Sam complained), then pushed him into the shower, gathered up his school satchel and waited in the driveway with the passengers' side door open and engine rumbling away. Ready to go.

The first morning Bee had performed his new duties, a worried and scared Judy had stuck her head out of the kitchen window, peering with horror at Sam and Bumblebee's little house. Sam was screaming blue murder about something... Then she'd laughed at the robot pushing her grumpy son along with one finger in his back, out the garage door, the robot transforming, and Sam getting into the car with a few sour swear words about "over-anxious, paranoid, anal robots" worried about humans being late for school. Judy was very pleased she had lost her position as Sam's tormentor in the mornings.

Bumblebee took his responsibilities as Sam's guardian very seriously.

"Sam, Optimus does not like his soldiers being late for meetings. He disapproves."

Sam rolled over away from Bumblebee, muttering, "...not a soldier, Bee... and it's Saturday."

Bumblebee stood back. Thinking. "We must go now or we will be late. If you wish to appear in front of the legendary Optimus Prime in your underwear, so be it." He reached out a hand and carefully plucked his friend out of bed.

"NO! No, no, no, no! Wait! I'm up! Put me down!" Sam yelled, wriggling in Bumblebee's careful grip. Bee's hands were cold against his skin and he only had his boxers on.

Bumblebee shook his head, opening the garage door with a digital signal and carrying his objecting charge outside in cupped hands. "We must leave NOW, Sam. I'm sure Optimus would rather see you in your Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles underwear than seeing you turning up late."

"I'll change! I'LL CHANGE!" Sam screamed.

"You will?" Bumblebee cocked his head. "Okay then." He put Sam down. "You have 2.3 minutes to put jeans and a shirt on. Run."

"Running!" Sam tore off back into the garage with stumbling arms and flailing arms.

Kneeling in her rose garden, Judy wiped her hands and looked up, smiling. "Bumblebee dear, it's only ten minutes past seven. You'll have plenty of time to get to the meeting."

"Good morning Mrs Witwicky," Bumblebee turned to face her, his optics twinkling. "Yes, I understand that. Sam dropped his dirty washing on me last week. He threw it over the railing thinking I was not underneath. I do not approve of being covered in dirty, smelly, week-old socks and underwear. Making him arise early this morning is my payback."

Judy blinked. "Good Lord, Bumblebee, you're very clever you know." She grinned in approval. She'd stopped trying to get Bumblebee to call her Judy. Bumblebee's manners were just too good. He could not call her 'Judy' or 'Mom'.

"Thank you." Bumblebee nodded.

Sam came running out of the garage, jeans on and sneakers on his feet, panting and struggling to pull a tight t-shirt over his head. "Ready!"

Bumblebee looked down at the sweaty boy, "You have taken 3.6 minutes instead of the 2.3 I allowed you to have." The Camaro's face looked stern. Sam cringed, trying to brush the creases out of his un-ironed shirt. Then Bumblebee's faceplates moved into a gleeful expression, "But since we are still early for the meeting, we can go drive-thru for breakfast."

"We're early?!" Sam cried, "but I thought we were running late!"

"No, we would have been late if you have continued to sleep in. Now we are early," Bumblebee corrected the boy happily. Sam made a face at him, poking out his tongue. Bumblebee the sadist.

"Have a nice day, boys. And don't forget Mojo, Ratchet made me promise you'd take him to the meeting." She looked fondly at her son, "Morning, sweetie."

"Morning Mom, oh yeah, Mojo!" Sam swivelled around. "Mojo! Here boy! C'mon Mo, meeting time!"

"BARK! Ruff, ruff!" The Chihuahua came bounding down the verandah steps at them as Bumblebee transformed and started his engine. The Camaro's door popped open and Mojo jumped into the driver's seat – his preferred position. Sam got the passenger side.

"Bye Mom!" Sam waved as the group took off down the driveway, bound for the Lookout (after a pit stop drive-thru McDonalds breakfast, Mojo loved hash browns).

_At the Lookout..._

"Ironhide, I do not approve of you dropping Sam into a mass of deep water. He could have drowned." Optimus had crossed his arms over his chest and was staring moodily at his Weapons Specialist.

Ironhide shrugged, taking a seat on the rocky ground and looking at the view. "It wasn't deep and the boy can swim. In any case, Ratchet was there to help if he stopped breathing."

"_Ironhide_!"

"What?" Ironhide looked up at him, unconcerned, "Don't get your antennae in a twist, boss. It's all okay. Organics swim better than we do."

Optimus muttered to himself, putting his fists on his hips, displeased. Well, he supposed Sam should not have tossed the object at Ironhide. Everyone knew that. Sparklings knew it, Elders knew it, aliens from other planets knew it. And now so did Sam. He looked up at the sound of familiar car engines. Ratchet's Rescue Hummer form was barrelling down the dirt road. Coming up behind him was Bumblebee. Optimus could just make out the tiny head of Mojo hanging out Bee's driver side window, the dogs ears were flapping in the wind, his mouth stretched in a super wide grin.

"Slag it. They brought the rodent." Ironhide grumbled, looking over his shoulder.

Ratchet pulled up in a cloud of dirt, transforming. Bumblebee parked next to him and waited while Sam picked up Mojo and clambered out of the car. Sam put Mojo on the ground and carefully clipped a long pink leash to Mojo's collar.

Standing up in his robot form, the medic looked down happily at his human and dog friends. "Hello Sam, Morning Mojo." Ratchet paused, his optics narrowing on the leash in Sam's hands. "Is that a new leash?" he asked uncertainly.

Sam shuffled his feet, not looking up. He knew what Ratchet was worried about. "Yeah. It is."

Ratchet frowned. "Mojo is a male dog, correct?"

"Yup."

"From my understanding of your culture, the male species does not associate itself with the color pink."

Sam nodded, "Got that right."

Ratchet went down on one knee, holding out a hand to the tiny dog. Mojo ruffed at him, holding up his head for a pat. Optimus wandered over, greeting Sam and Bumblebee.

Ratchet stroked the dog thoughtfully, "So why is Mojo's leash bright pink?"

"Because Mom reckons dogs are colour-blind?" Sam said, embarrassed. "No, seriously, Mom chose the leash, and she loves pink. So pink it is."

"Oh dear. Nevermind, you have my sympathy little Mojo," Ratchet told the dog sadly, Mojo's head bouncing softly with the force of Ratchet's patting.

Optimus Prime looked down at Ironhide, "I am so glad none of us scanned a pink vehicle."

Ironhide barked a laugh. "You're telling me. Those flames of yours look pink in fading sunlight."

Optimus winced. "Oh."

Sam looked up at the huge Autobot Leader, "Mikaela sends her apologies, she had to visit her Aunt this morning. She's got a bad cold."

"Really?" Ratchet perked up, getting to his feet. "Perhaps I can be of assistance?"

Sam laughed, "Don't be so eager, Ratch, you'd give her Aunt a heart attack, she's pretty old you know."

"I would not, I have had very thorough medical training," Ratchet replied, his dignity ruffled.

"He means from the aspect of seeing a giant alien robot for the first time, lughead," Ironhide snickered, getting up from the ground and slapping his friend on the shoulder.

Ratchet winced, "Oh yes. There is that."

Optimus tapped one of his oversized feet on the ground, "May we begin our meeting now?"

A chorus of grunts and 'yeah's answered him. Optimus nodded.

Mojo wasn't enjoying this. The ride in the car had been fun, but sitting around while a lot of talking went on wasn't fun at all. He needed something to do. His ears perked up at a rabbit hopping around some bushes not too far away. Mojo pulled at his leash. Sam had his foot casually planted on the end of it while he gestured with his hands. Perhaps if he pulled hard enough... he was free!

"BARKBARKBARK!" Mojo scampered at top speed towards the rabbit.

"Huh?" Sam looked around. "MOJO!"

The dog was running right at something rustling in the bushes – and the bushes were right on the edge of the cliff. He'd fall over it. "SOMEONE GRAB HIM!" Sam screeched.

"On it!" Ironhide took long ground-shaking steps at the rodent. Mojo was almost at the bushes. His hands reached out – and the rabbit darted between his legs, Mojo changed direction mid-stride and followed it. "Wha..?" Ironhide looked down at the two animals underneath him, tripped, and crashed on his face.

"Slag it, Ironhide!" Ratchet cursed, not giving into the temptation to stand and laugh at Ironhide with his aft in the air, instead throwing himself with heavy steps after Mojo. "Mojo, stop!"

"Keep him away from the cliff!" Sam shouted, running along behind. He didn't have a hope of keeping up with the rabbit, Mojo, or the robots, but he tried anyway.

The rabbit was making wild squealing sounds and trying to keep in front of the dog. Mojo was very determined. The rabbit feinted left. Mojo went left. Ratchet went left, his hands stretched out.

...then the rabbit darted right.

"PRIMUS!" Ratchet stumbled, trying not to tread on the dog as Mojo went under his raised foot. He went down, crashing onto his side with a grunt and a mess of arms and legs.

Optimus put one hand over his optics, shaking his head with a groan. Two of his top soldiers brought down by a dog and a rabbit. Perhaps they could enlist the organic animals against the Decepticons?

Ironhide had gotten to his feet, re-stabilised his balance equalizers, and was off after Mojo again. Sam had to stop and gasp for air, wheezing laughter. The sight of Ironhide running was too much. The big black mech had a running motion like he had something painful stuck up his ass. Elbows up in the air, knees out wide, shoulders hunched. Holy God, he was funny.

Mojo ran past Optimus, barking crazily. Now this was more fun than talking!

Ironhide jogged past Optimus, air hissing in and out of his vents, "Let me shoot it, just one shot, no more rabbit, no more problem."

"No, Ironhide," Optimus sighed patiently.

Ratchet ran past, following Ironhide, Mojo and the rabbit. "Don't you dare shoot it, 'Hide!" the medic was yelling.

"What?! You can put it back together! You're a medic!"

"I can't put black soot back together, bit-brain!"

Bumblebee had been watching the action. He'd figured it out. The elder Autobots were all unplanned action and crazy yelling. There was no need for that. If he could just get in the right position... he crouched, waiting.

The rabbit ran in front of him, and did another right turn, Mojo on its tail. Bumblebee dove, twisting. The rabbit screamed, Mojo yelped, Ratchet yelled, Sam gasped, Optimus put his head in his hands again. Ironhide pulled up in a sliding stop behind the mess.

Bumblebee was on the ground on his back, the squealing rabbit in one hand, Mojo in the other and Ratchet in his lap – face down. The medic spluttered, planting his hands wide and lifting himself from being in Bumblebee's crotch plating.

"You could've warned me, youngling," Ratchet growled. This was twice his dignity had been dented, and it was still early morning.

"You're welcome," Bumblebee retorted, his faceplates stretched into a grin.

"MO! Bad dog! Naughty! No rabbit for you!" Sam carefully removed Mojo from Bumblebee's grasp. "Bee, can you put the rabbit in the woods somewhere? Where Mojo can't see it? And make sure it's okay and everything. Maybe we hurt it."

"Yes, Sam. No problem."

Bumblebee gingerly held onto the shrieking, ungrateful rabbit while a worried Ratchet scanned it for injuries. The medic straightened up and pronounced it to be in perfect health. Ironhide picked grass out of his cannons.

"Thank Primus for that, or we'd have another useless animal in the medbay for safe keeping," Ironhide grouched, watching Bumblebee carry the rabbit into the woods.

"We've got a resident useless animal, Ironhide." Ratchet responded. "You."

"Hey!"

"Oh shut up. And wipe the mud off your aft."

Optimus Prime rubbed at his optics tiredly. "Meeting over, I think. That's enough for one day. More than enough."


	8. Chapter 8

**Tales of Mojo 'Superdog'**

Authors Note: My best friend's dog, Tequila, a Golden Retriever, passed away yesterday, 11 June, from Leukaemia. I dedicate this chapter to Janine and Tequila, and I wish I could take away the terrible pain and grief I know she is feeling.

**Chapter 8**

_**Tranquillity, Sam and Bumblebee's residence...**_

"You're banned from meetings now. You're such a bad boy, you know that?" Sam asked his Chihuahua, Mojo.

"Erm?" Mojo lifted his head from his king-sized bone, cocking his ears at his Sam. "Ruff!"

Sam reluctantly went back to his homework, "Rough is right. You make meetings fun! Optimus is just a spoilsport. He's definitely not a dog lover."

The boy thought for a bit. He had recently taken up running. Not out of any health kick drive or concern for his fitness, more from the point of view of keeping weight off, and improving his muscle tone. He quite enjoyed it. And since his final year of high school was a killer, it helped to keep his stress levels down too.

... and Mikaela appreciated his newly toned body.

He looked at Mojo again. The vet had expressed her opinion that Mojo needed to lose weight. Approximately half a pound, or so.

Sam looked down to his dog, and reached out a hand to rub around his ears. Mojo panted and smiled up at him. "Y'know, you can still go and see the Autobots. You can come running with me around the base, would you like that?"

Mojo could only take so much of his attention away from his meaty bone. He was busy. Bones were priority number one. "Rrrrr," ::bite::gnaw::, "Rrrrrr, BARK, Rrrrr".

Sam's eyes rested upon the laid-out form of his best friend in the garage of their house, "Not too loud, you'll wake up Bee!" he said anxiously, looking across the lounge room to where Bumblebee was stretched out on his recharge berth in the garage portion of their little house.

Bee was lying on his back, his arms hanging down the sides of his 'bed', his feet turned out at odd angles and his optics dark – a picture of complete robot exhaustion. All he needed to look more authentic were a few snores. Sam felt like sneaking a pillow in under Bumblebee's head for comfort, but he doubted he could lift it, Bee's head must weigh half a ton.

It had been a big day for the yellow Autobot. He had been helping Ironhide with explaining Cybertronian weapons theory and practise to the United States Army; the parts of it which SecDef Keller and Will Lennox had authorised to be informed. Ironhide had been careful to only reveal information which wouldn't greatly advantage the Americans against other countries in the world. He gave them techniques aimed at saving the lives of individual soldiers or groups, rather than outright destruction.

Unfortunately, Ironhide had taken full advantage of having the youngling Bumblebee do all the physical running (and driving) around during some of Ironhide's detailed demonstrations. The poor bot was exhausted. He'd come home that night, mumbled a greeting to Sam, apologised sincerely for hitting the hay early, and dumped himself onto his recharge berth; knocked out and sleeping like a robot whose batteries had been yanked out.

Mojo made a few more wet slurping sounds, wrestling happily with his delicious bone. Sam wrinkled his nose at him, "I seriously do not want to know what poor animal that bone came from... gross. Mom's a sadist. Bones are disgusting. What's wrong with dental biscuits?"

He eyed the bone, "...maybe it's from a rabbit."

_**Next day, at the Autobot base...**_

Sam got out of Bumblebee and stretched his arms over his head, leaning from side to side and shaking out his legs. He'd finished school early and come out for a visit – and for some exercise. Mojo too.

::_BOOM_::

"aaaaAAARGH!" Sam jumped in shock, leaning back against Bumblebee's door. "What the & was that?!"

Bumblebee's car form shook with laughter, "That is Ironhide. He has installed his own target range with the help of his new army friends. Optimus allowed him to as long as he follows strict rules and regulations." He pushed Sam away from him with a swing of the door, and tilted his driver's seat upwards. Mojo was plonked out the door in a mess of legs and leash, just managing to land on his feet.

"BARK!" Mojo announced his arrival, bouncing on his paws.

::BOOM::BOOM::

"IKE! IKE! IKE!" The dog abruptly cowered against Sam's leg, scared by the explosions, his ears flat, eyes huge and body trembling.

::BOOM::BOOM::BOOM::

"IRONHIDE! Cease and desist! We have visitors!" From inside of the base, Optimus Prime's deep yell followed a few more heavy 'booms' from the direction of Ironhide's new playground.

"IKE!" Mojo squealed frantically. He couldn't stand loud noises. His ears hurt.

"AND YOU'RE SCARING MOJO, SLAG-HEAD!" Ratchet's higher-pitched voice followed Prime's command with more venom. "CUT IT OUT!"

Sam sagged with relief at the sudden boom-free silence, Bumblebee transforming behind him to stand over his boy and dog protectively.

"Eh. Visitors. They better be of the blowing-up kind," the Weapons Specialist came stomping in from behind two massive sandhills which bore huge 'DO NOT ENTER' signs, his optics alighting on the presence of Bumblebee, Sam and Mojo. "Slag it. They're not." He bristled with brooding disappointment.

Bumblebee crossed his arms and glared. Sam still had his fingers in his ears, blinking up at the black scary mech. Parts of Ironhide were still smoking. Mojo sat between Sam's feet, looking around with indignation. And sniffing. Something was burning...

Optimus Prime and Ratchet came out of the base's entrance, the Leader striding along with regal purpose as he always did, the medic hustling next to him with a rolling gait.

"I knew it! I told you! Giving 'Hide his own range will be trouble!" Ratchet insisted. "But no, I'm just the medic, the one who keeps your sorry aft from falling off your over-worked chassis, why should my opinion mean anything."

Optimus sighed, coming to a half in front of Bee, Sam, and the dog, "Ratchet, we discussed this..."

Ironhide revved up his left smoking cannon, poking Ratchet in the shoulder with the business end of it, "Yeah, we did. Optimus said yes. Shut it, pit-brain."

Ratchet hissed, shoving Ironhide's cannon away with one hand, "I'm going to paint a target on your head and invite Captain Lennox's army to shoot you on your own range. I'll even help."

Ironhide grinned, settling his hands on his hips proudly, "Go ahead. You couldn't hit me, Hatchet. You can't shoot straight, that's why I'M here."

"See?! SEE?!" Ratchet waved his arms frantically at a sorry looking Optimus. "You've authorised a disaster!"

"Um, hi guys, look, is it alright if Mojo and I go for a run?" Sam spoke up tentatively, not seeing an end to this particular discussion.

"Yes," said Optimus - Thinking that Ironhide wouldn't be stupid enough to shoot the boy. He'd deactivate him permanently with his own bare hands.

"NO!" shrieked Ratchet - Terrified of Sam losing his arms and legs to Ironhide's crazy antics. Or his head. He wasn't qualified to conduct funerals.

"Whatever," said Ironhide - Needing something to shoot. Mojo would be a nifty target. Small and quick. He could make it look accidental, too.

"Bark!" said Mojo. Not giving a crap what they were talking about.

Bumblebee ignored the lot of them and concentrated on picking dirt out of the crevices in his hands. Sam was safe. Ironhide would be dead if he wasn't.

"Oh," Sam frowned, "That sounds complicated. You guys got a treadmill or something then that I can use?"

"Sam," Optimus Prime got down low with hissing hydraulics and whining circuits, kneeling on one leg like he always did when he had something sincere to say to someone tiny, "Ironhide will not endanger your life in any way. You are free to run around, just please do not enter anywhere which has signs asking you not to do so. This ensures you will stay safe."

Ratchet grumbled behind him, not convinced.

Optimus knew better. Despite his bravado and over-the-top antics, Ironhide was a stickler for safety, he had designed and built the shooting range to ensure the complete security of anyone outside its perimeter. No one would get hurt, as long as they obeyed the signs. Prime could not deny the fact that his Weapons Specialist needed somewhere to practise his skills. The range was actually a good idea. Besides, the only humans that would be around were Sam, Mikaela, and Will Lennox. None of them were lacking in intelligence, they would obey the signs.

"Please continue with your exercise regime, Sam." Optimus tilted his head to the side, contemplating, "and perhaps I will even join you. It has been a while since I last extended my legs to their full capacity." The Commander straightened up once more to his full height.

"Primus, I hope you don't trip over your own feet again..." Ratchet muttered quietly, looking skywards, remembering all the work he'd had to do the last time Prime went for a pleasant run. Nothing about Optimus was 'little', especially his repairs.

Sam raised an eyebrow comically, "You guys _exercise_?" He couldn't see Optimus tramping along at a jog with a sweatband around his forehead. Robots didn't need to get fit!

Bumblebee squeaked affirmatively, doing a jog on the spot behind his friend, punching the air with his fists.

"Yeah, you're just a show-off Bee," Sam smirked. "A cute and dangerous one."

Eventually, with some persuasion, Sam set off for his run, taking his usual circular route around the base through the sparse forest at the edges of the desert the base sat in. Mojo trotted alongside on his leash, more than able to keep up. Sam could run for a long time, he just wasn't a _fast _runner. He did more of a shuffle than anything.

Ironhide grunted and went back to his beloved new baby shooting range with pounding steps.

"Ratchet."

The worried medic looked at his towering leader as Ironhide disappeared from view.

"I have installed silent alarms at intervals along the perimeter to the shooting range. If anyone or anything attempts to enter, Ironhide's cannons will be shut down automatically with a coded signal. Does that make you feel better?"

Ratchet looked him up and down with admiration. "You're not as clueless as others say you are."

Optimus choked. "What?!"

"Forget it," Ratchet chuckled, patting him on the shoulder. "I'm just pulling your antennae, as the humans say."

Sam jogged along, using the balls of his feet to spring off the ground and pumping his arms to help keep his motion going. The air was still warm, the last vestiges of summer just hanging on. He monitored Mojo, checking that the little dog was doing okay. It wouldn't do if Mojo got tired and was being pulled along by the leash.

::THUMP::THUMP::THUMP::

"Here comes Optimus," Sam grinned. Mojo kept up with his determined trotting. Curiously, he never seemed to worry about being stepped on.

::THUMP::THUMP::THUMP::

Sam's eyes looked up at the tremendous shape of Optimus Prime casually loping along.

"Hey Optimus! Nice form!" he yelled up at the Autobot Leader.

Optimus grunted, his incredibly long legs taking him past the boy at a fast rate, "Thank you."

::THUMP::THUMP:: THUMP::

"... and I believe you need to work on your speed, Sam," he commented lightly as he moved far ahead.

Sam panted, struggling to catch his breath, "We'll see who's fast and who's not!" he yelled. Damn it. Arrogant robots.

::thump::thump::thump::

A yellow flash tore past him, legs and arms moving quickly, chasing after the red and blue mech.

"GO GET HIM, BEE!" Sam yelled, coming to a stop. He leant over with his hands on his knees, panting harshly. Mojo sat down with his front legs braced in front of him, making quick breaths too. The boy watched Bumblebee's smaller form begin to catch up to his Leader by taking short-cuts through the trees with swooping movements. Optimus had long strides, but he didn't take quick strides. Bumblebee was quick enough to catch up.

"I'VE GOT YOU!" Bumblebee's happy cry echoed around the forest as he tagged his Commander.

"ARGH! Bumblebee! Don't do that!"

Sam grinned. He heard Bee make a whooping sound and sprint off away from his antagonised boss. Sam picked up his pace again, running along and keeping an eye out for the huge Autobots. It took quite a few strides before he realised he no longer had Mojo's leash clutched in his hand.

"Mojo?!" Sam shuddered to a halt, looking around wildly. "MOJO!" He couldn't hear much over the loud shaking steps of Optimus and Bumblebee chasing each other around the trees.

::BOOM::BOOM::

"Oh, geez! Stop it, Ironhide!" What a time for the black mech to begin shooting again. He couldn't hear a bloody thing! "MOJO! Bumblebee, HELP!"

Bumblebee gave up on ducking away from Optimus and detoured abruptly to his crying out human charge, "Sam! What's wrong?"

"MOJO! He's gone! Don't-"

::BOOM::BOOM::BOOM::

"-step on him!! IRONHIDE! STOP IT WITH THE EXPLOSIONS!" Sam screamed.

"IRONHIDE! STOP SHOOTING!" Optimus Prime's urgent command rang out over the area.

::BOOM::BOOM::BOOM::

Optimus frowned and began striding over to the shooting range perimeter, "He has turned down his audio receptors to prevent damage. He can't hear us. I'll just lean over the fence-"

::BOOM::BOOM::BOOM::

... then sudden silence.

Sam and the Autobots froze, looking around. Birds twittered in the trees. A jumbo jet airliner passed overhead. Squirrels ran up and down tree branches, chattering, fluffy tails erect.

Heavy footsteps came thumping through the trees.

"Rodent, I really should blow you up, you know that? You can't hang around on my shooting range, you'll get shot. Fried dog, eh?"

Optimus, Bumblebee and Sam watched in horrified surprise. Walking through the trees and half-hidden in shadows was Ironhide, smoke curling from his glowing over-worked cannons. In his hand was Mojo's leash. The tiny dog was trotting along beside the broad-shouldered big black Autobot.

Ironhide was walking Mojo to safety.

"Wha...?" Sam blinked, "Am I, uh, like, hallucinating?"

"No," Optimus said softly, watching his soldier approach with the dog, "Ironhide does care for innocent beings. It's not often we get to witness something like this."

Ironhide stopped in front of the small group, his optics refused to meet with those of his onlookers. "Boy, keep hold of your dog. He almost became dog food." The mech leaned over, his oversized black hand dropped down and offered the leash to Sam.

Stunned, Sam accepted the leash with weak fingers, struck dumb. Bumblebee whistled quietly, observing the interaction.

"Hn," Ironhide grunted, turning around and heading back to his target range. "Dog sushi is so hard to clean off targets. Revolting."

Optimus, Sam and Bumblebee all looked at each other. Mojo sat down, yawned and scratched at a flea, back in Sam's safe hands again.

The giant Leader looked thoughtful, rubbing a hand on his chin, "We must find the place where Mojo got through the fence and mend it." He paused, a grin on his faceplates, "Right after we show the others the film footage I just made of Ironhide walking Mojo."

Bumblebee fell onto his back, twittering with laughter. Optimus chuckled, shaking his head.

"Not funny man, not funny! He almost blew up Mojo!" Sam said, glaring. "Well, okay, a little bit funny. Heh."

The next day, Ratchet made a surprise new target for his friend Ironhide to use on his shooting range. A large cardboard cut-out outline of Ironhide walking the dog. Ironhide blew it up, but that was okay, Ratchet had plenty of copies. Plenty.


	9. Chapter 9

**Tales of Mojo 'Superdog' **

**Chapter 9**

_**Autobot Base, Ironhide's regular maintenance Service.**_

Ratchet eyed off his current victim who was lying stiffly on the medical exam table. "Well, well." The medic grinned. "Well, well, well."

Ironhide shifted his weight uneasily on the bench. He hated lying down for anything. Except for lolling around recharging, being forced upon his back made him feel vulnerable. "Rrrr. What?"

Ratchet leaned over Ironhide's prone form conspiratorially, whispering while running a cleaning cloth over the calibration tool clutched in his hands, "I know you didn't come here of your own free will." He let out a nasty chuckle.

"Cut out the evil doctor act, Ratch," Ironhide grumped, clenching a fist at his side, "Optimus ordered me to come. So what? I'm here. Get on with it." He wriggled once again on the table, trying to get comfortable. "There is no fun in a maintenance service, slagger."

Ratchet sighed heavily, turning to check that his complement of tools were arranged and ready. "Okay, okay. You take the fun out of everything, 'Hide." His fingers reverently touched and meddled with his equipment. A slight hum of satisfaction came from his vocal processors as he began the exam. Everything went smoothly (smooth, as in; Ratchet poked and tweaked, Ironhide yelped and shouted, and Ratchet dealt out a slapping – normalcy reigned) until Ratchet discovered a worn, cracked, and leaking, hydraulic cylinder in Ironhide's left chest accentuator.

"This isn't right..."

"OWW! Ratch!"

Ratchet had part of Ironhide's chest armor flipped upwards to give him more room among the circuitry of the Weapons Specialist's innards, "No, no, this isn't good at all."

"Leave it alone! It's fine!"

"Shut up. Hmmm. Not good."

"Ratchet!" Ironhide said desperately, moving his body on the table away from Ratchet's prodding to the point of hanging off the other side and clinging on with one free hand to stop himself from hitting the floor. "Stop that! It HURTS!"

"Of course it hurts, it needs replacing!" Ratchet pointed a finger at the left side of his chest. "This looks like it's been leaking and attempting to self-repair itself for a long time. You need to tell me about these things, Ironhide," the CMO smacked the end of his small pointy probe against Ironhide's forehead-

Ironhide cringed, bringing one hovering hand up to defend himself from the smacking, "OWW! Hey!"

"-because when you _don't _tell me, you end up requiring repairs which need even _longer_ to repair than if the previously _small_ problem had been dealt with in the first place." Another smack with the probe in the head. "MORON!"

Ironhide whimpered. Ratchet smiled, pleased that he had gotten his point across once more. Ironhide never whimpered unless he had been backed into an indefensible corner.

"Now. This means I will need to remove the entire circuit board components and transfer gauges from the side of your chest, remove the defective hydraulic cylinder, insert the new one, then put your chest back together again."

"Really?" Ironhide looked extremely glum.

"You'll need to be on your back and staying still for a few Earth hours."

"A few?!"

"Yes. I will need to shut you down and immobilise your left-hand side. Your arm, chest and neck will be paralysed for a little while." Ratchet delivered this last bit of news gravely. As enjoyable as it was to poke fun at Ironhide-the-surgery-phobe, Ratchet knew it was going to be an extremely difficult time for the aged warrior to lie still on his back, partially paralysed, for at least three Earth hours.

Ironhide's optics dimmed. "Are you sure you have to-"

"Yes."

"But don't you think-"

"No."

"Can't you try-"

"No."

Ironhide rubbed one hand over his face, groaning. "Stuff it."

"Not stuffed, repairable and paralysed for a little while." Ratchet smiled soothingly, trying to keep his mouthplates from twitching. Poor Ironhide. "I will need to do all this tomorrow." Ratchet brightened, "It's Saturday tomorrow! Sam and Bumblebee will be here to keep you entertained."

"Oh no," Ironhide muttered pitifully. "Please no. Primus, let me suffer in peace, that's all I ask."

Ratchet snickered. He also knew that Sam was bringing Mojo. Oh goody.

_**Next day, Saturday morning...**_

Optimus Prime watched Ironhide tramp wearily to his medical appointment, making his way across the rec room to enter the medbay. The shoulders of the proud solider were drooping, his feet dragging, nonsensical mutterings coming from his vocaliser.

"It's not that bad, Ironhide," Optimus said kindly, pausing as he adjusted and examined his wacking huge laser rifle. It had been a long time since he'd given his lethal toy a good service and a polish, he had it laid across his lap and was giving it some overdue expert attention.

Ironhide paused. Grunted. Looked around blearily. "Where's the kid, the runt, and the rodent?"

Optimus processed that quickly; Kid was Sam, Runt was Bumblebee, Rodent was Mojo. "They haven't arrived yet."

A wry grin appeared on Ironhide's face, "Well isn't that a small mercy. Primus does love me."

He hadn't even finished the sentence before the screech of braking wheels and an over-revving engine announced the arrival of Bumblebee with his charges outside the base doors.

"Oh." Ironhide tumbled right back into depression again. "Nevermind." He plodded onwards.

The big black warrior didn't see Bumblebee or his smaller friends until he was flat on his back with his chest and arm immobilised. He had became entirely focused on Ratchet and what his hands were doing. Although the CMO had switched off his pain sensors, Ironhide was still uncomfortable and nervous about being worked upon. His armor was up in the air and exposing his protoform, his right arm was paralysed, he wasn't allowed to move – he _hated_ being this way. It was awful. He knew he'd be in superior working order after all the work was done, but still... it sucked.

He started to relax somewhat after Ratchet had removed his hands from inside his chassis, picked up the disinstalled faulty hydraulic mechanism, and had his back turned to him as he prepared the new one on a separate bench.

Ironhide heard a noise to his left. His optics swivelled to see what it was. Ratchet was on his right... so what was -

Twin blue optics slowly rose up and peeked at him over the table top, blinking, peering into his open chest compartment. Optic ridges rose up in amusement. There was a sparkling-like 'click' of interest and a long low shrill of fascinated wonder.

"Bumblebee, frag off," Ironhide groaned, short-tempered. _I don't need this, I don't need this_, he thought desperately, _This isn't fair, I can't fight back!_

"I can't see him Bee! Lift up the short ass human for a look, please? I have to see this," Sam's voice drifted up from below.

Bumblebee made a show of rolling his optics, then his face disappeared – only to reappear with Sam in one hand. He let the human rest his hands on the table top as the boy looked around.

"Oh my God, this is like anatomy school or something," Sam said in awe. "Are you feeling okay, Ironhide? You know, you don't look good." The boy winced as a small flare of fizzled circuitry flashed in Ironhide's chest. "Oh, oww." His assessing gaze looked seriously at Ironhide's grumpy one, "Is this your annual service? Like, every five thousand miles you get an engine flush and oil change?"

Bumblebee shook with near silent laughter at that, clicking earnestly, while Sam looked expectantly at an amazed Ratchet. "Is it? Does it? How many miles do you guys do?" he asked.

A doggie bark of agreement came from below. Mojo was sitting in the doorway, Sam had wrapped the end of his long leash around a pipe just above ground level while he and Bee harassed Ironhide.

Ironhide returned to staring stoically at the roof. He'd read somewhere on the World Wide Web that if one ignored one's protagonists, they would cease and desist –although Ironhide was sceptical since that technique had never worked on Decepticons. It just gave them more leeway to think up creative ideas that involved your head and their gun.

Ratchet reappeared in Ironhide's vertical field of view. "That is not an accurate description, Sam, we are much more than a giant engine with legs." He quirked an optic ridge down at his prone patient, "Most of us."

"GO TO THE PIT!"

"Mmm. However, Ironhide could do with an exhaust flush."

"LIKE HELL!" Ironhide began to vigorously wriggle the parts of him that still moved, promising violence.

"Exhaust flush?" Sam smirked, "Hey Bee, can we stick around and watch Ironhide get an enema?"

That announcement received no response until the Autobots processed the meaning of the word.

"Oh! Oh yes, I do see the value in doing those. Cleans out the system very nicely," Ratchet said brightly.

"Ass flush," Sam snickered.

Ironhide whimpered softly, his optics dimming. That was it. He was ready to ascend to Primus now, and damned if he wouldn't guard the portal to the heavenly Matrix so no one followed him in to inflict further indignities on his person. Especially aft indignities.

Bumblebee made bowing movements of worship to his human. The boy thought of the best things to say! Maybe they could hack into Ratchet's service schedule program and put Optimus down for an overdue 'ass flush'.

Ratchet sighed softly. Now this wasn't right. Yes, Ironhide needed taking down a bolt or two, but this was terribly one-sided, the poor put-upon mech had no defence available to him while he was immobile. Time to strike back. "Sam, when was the last time you had your prostate examined?"

Sam shrank sharply into Bumblebee's safe hands at his back, "That's for older guys, Ratch! I don't need that."

The medic eyed him off with calculating optics, "There's always a good time to start. Several research studies say males should be examined for potential problems when they mature. You are mature, Sam." He bent down to be face-to-face with the wide-eyed teen, holding up the smallest of the digits on his five-fingered hands, the pinkie, and flexing it, "I do think I have the rights tools for the job too. As long as you relax."

Sam's thighs closed with a jean-clad thunk, and he kept his ass directed away from Ratchet's clutching fingers, "SHIT!" he yelped.

Bumblebee had just looked up the words 'prostate' and 'finger' on the internet and was shaking his head, looking disgusted. He slapped away Ratchet's finger, glaring. The medic would not be going near his charge to do that!

Ironhide had just done the same thing to find out the meaning of the words, and was grinning madly. "I'll hold him down for ya, Ratch. He's probably got quite a few things wrong up there. Needs a good investigation."

Sam paled, gripping Bumblebee's hands worriedly, "No, no, no, no. We're outta here! Go, Bee, go! Vamoose! Run! Exit!"

Bumblebee nodded vigorously. He wasn't going to let two dirty old mech's touch his Sam's bottom. They were so gone! Cradling Sam in both hands, he strode for the door of the medbay – then noticed that Mojo wasn't where they had left him. He quirked his head to the side, looking down and querying Sam. They had left the dog there, right?

"Where's Mojo?" Sam said, looking around. "I left him there, I swear I did..."

_**Earlier, while the shenanigans in the medbay had been reaching peak momentum...**_

Optimus Prime hummed softly, out of tune, while he checked over his rifle. The fragile peace and quiet wouldn't last for much longer. Not with that lot in the medbay in such close proximity. Someone would scream, something would explode or the roof would cave in. He was used to it. Propping his long red and blue heavy legs on a groaning table top, rifle cradled in his lap, he settled in for at least, oh, another fifteen Earth minutes of sane time.

"Ruff! Urk! Ruff, ruff!" Mojo scuttled quickly through the rec room with his leash dragging behind him, not paying any attention to Optimus Prime. He'd broken the soft knot Sam had used in the medbay to keep him tied up outside the room. Now it was exploring time!

The Commander paused, looking up in time to see Mojo's leash disappear down the hallway to their personal quarters.

"Mojo, what are you doing? There's nothing down there for you to see," called Optimus. All the doors to their rooms were kept shut for privacy. The dog couldn't get into anything and make a mess. "Mojo? Mojo!"

Mojo didn't return. Everything was silent. He tweaked the antennae on his head to hear better but no sounds came. Optimus shrugged slightly and returned his attention to his rifle. Mojo would come back.

And Mojo did come back. Carrying something black, square, and with red markings on it in his mouth. His claws clicked on the floor, the leash behind him flicking from side to side as he trotted.

Optimus stared at the dog. "Mojo, you're back, good." He went back to his rifle, then paused. "Hold up a minute..." The dog had something in his mouth.

Prime looked again at the running dog, yep, he'd grabbed something out of someone's room. Dammit, who left their door open?

"What did you take? Put it down, I don't think it is a good idea for you to steal things..." Oh wait, hang on, he recognised that. It was a... _PRIMUS NO_!

"MOJO!" Optimus yelled, standing up so his rifle slipped off his lap and landed on the floor with a crash. "DROP IT, SOLDIER!"

Mojo bolted, his little legs pummelling along. It was hard for him to see where he was going, and the thing was awkward to hold onto, but he was not going to let go of his prize. He found it, it was his!

Optimus Prime's thumping footsteps followed him at a run. "Mojo! STOP!"

The dog tore down the hallway as a beige flash with a black streak, and he kept going even when he saw two tall yellow trees in his way, he dodged smoothly so he ran between them.

Bumblebee froze mid-step, letting forth a crackly vocal "Huh?" of surprise when Mojo slipped between his legs and out the other side.

"STOP THAT DOG!" Optimus Prime's thunderous voice echoed around the Autobot's airplane hanger base.

Bumblebee squeaked when he caught sight of the mass of frantic red and blue mech racing down the hallway with swinging arms and striding legs directly at him. He flattened himself against the wall, shielding Sam, his body creaking he was pressing so hard. The rebound shock of Prime's mass on the floor made Bee feel as though he'd been passed over by an earthquake.

Mojo ran full tilt into the medbay, all the time holding onto his new chew toy. He scampered beneath the nearest bench and crouched down, making himself small and invisible. The Autobot symbol dangling from his collar clinked on the floor.

"DOG!" Optimus yelled, sliding to a stop and swivelling around to locate Mojo and his contraband cargo.

Ratchet's head jerked up, "PRIME! What the slag are you doing?! This is the medbay not the gymnasium! Go outside if you want to run around like an insane chickenbot."

"Uh," Optimus' blazing blue optics went from side-to-side, still searching. "Mojo took something from someone's room. I have to get it back."

"What? So?" Ratchet frowned, displeased, "Don't come messing up my medbay about it."

"No, no, Ratchet, you don't _understand_," Optimus made frantic slitting motions across his throat with one hand while jabbing a pointed finger at Ironhide with the other.

"What?" Ratchet barked, getting even crankier. "Make sense, frag it!"

Optimus bowed his head, muttering, then sent a swift internal text message to the CMO.

–MOJO TOOK IRONHIDES SPECIAL FEMME THING FROM UNDER HIS RECHARGE BED-

Ratchet squinted an optic, "Huh?" But then he realised what Optimus meant by the 'femme thing'. He sent a reverse text back hurriedly, stilling his hands above a quietly snoozing Ironhide.

-PRIMUS ABOVE, YOU HAVE GOT TO BE FOOLING WITH ME. I THOUGHT IRONHIDE DID NOT KEEP THOSE ANY MORE-

Optimus locked gazes with him and nodded. "So, uh, we need to find him..."

-BEFORE SAM AND BEE DO-

Ratchet clenched his mouthplates together. He would have to give up Mojo's hiding place if he'd done something that naughty. He stamped one foot angrily, "MOJO, front and centre!"

With a muffled 'urf' Mojo scrambled to his feet and presented himself promptly to the medic with the black datapad hanging out of his mouth at the same moment as Bumblebee and Sam came hurrying through the door.

"What is going on...?" Ironhide mumbled vaguely, his black fingers twitching and his optics fizzing. Ratchet had finally consented to giving him a sedative to keep him calm for the delicate installation procedure. He wasn't fully aware of his surroundings. The mech was floating along in recharge dreamland.

"Nothing, go back off-line," Ratchet said calmly to him while watching Optimus bend down and attempt to remove Ironhide's item from the Chihuahua's clamped mouth. The dog was dancing backwards, dragging the datapad on the floor.

"Grrrrr! Grrrrr!" Mojo shook his head, backing up from the grabby mech trying to steal his illegal booty and letting forth a muffled, "BARK!"

Bumblebee set Sam carefully down onto the floor, both of them staring at Mojo.

"Mojo, what on Earth have you got in your mouth, give it here, bad dog," Sam snagged his dog by the hindleg, immobilising him, "Drop it! Go on, drop!"

Mojo dropped, letting the thing go and whining miserably. His ears drooped. Everyone always took his fun things away.

Optimus Prime winced, bowing his head. Ratchet had a painful expression. The boy had the datapad.

"Wha...?" Sam held the large square black pad in front of his face. "Why does this have a picture of a couple of robots entangled with each other on the front? They look like they're having-"

Optimus snatched the pad out of his hand with precise aim, "I'm sorry Sam, but that is classified material." So saying, he held the item to his chest and strode from the room before any more questions could be asked. He was going to make sure the item was returned so it looked like it had never been disturbed.

Bumblebee appeared stricken. He'd sort of recognised the datapad. He'd only seen pictures of them on intergalactic transmissions, not one in the metal, so to speak, and he suspected some of the mech's he knew would probably have one somewhere; so who owned that one? Was it Optimus? Did Optimus even get into that stuff? He had no idea where to get one of his own from, and he didn't dare ask.

"Bee?" Sam peered after where Optimus had left the room, "What was that thing? It looked like... looked like... oh, I better shut up now, right?"

"Yes Sam," Bumblebee said, relieved, "I think you should."

Ratchet looked straight at the yellow scout and sent a cursive text him.

-NOT A WORD BEE. NOT A WORD. EVER. IRONHIDE DOES NOT NEED TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENED-

Bumblebee nodded. He didn't want to discuss it either. Those things were private.

"Primus you lot are noisy... go away..." Ironhide mumbled, still lying in ignorance on the med table.

Ironhide had no inkling that Mojo had stolen his private stash of adult literature. If he had, or ever did, Mojo would've be an instant pair of dog drumsticks and chicken wings. He was puzzled about why Optimus reminded him to make sure the door to his room was closed whenever Sam and the dog visited.

_**Later, as Bumblebee transformed outside the base to drive Sam home...**_

"Bee?"

"Yes Sam?"

"That thing Mojo had, it was a Playboy type thing, wasn't it?"

Pause.

"What is it your Government says? Oh yes. I categorically deny everything and no comment."

"Hot damn! It was a naughty magazine thing!"

"..."

"Heh. Cool."


	10. Chapter 10

**Tales of Mojo 'Superdog' **

Authors Note: I haven't updated this in yonks! I got a plot bunny by its cottontail and decided to run with it. Prepare for more stupid Mojo/Sam/Bee antics. And a lot of Optimus Prime humiliation as well (my speciality!).

**Chapter 10**

Optimus Prime carefully removed the dog slobber from Ironhide's naughty femme thing, placing it back under the black mech's recharge bed in the same position it had been removed from (and he tried NOT to look too closely at whatever else his Weapons Specialist had hiding under there).

Ironhide was none-the-wiser. He came out of surgery grumbling, swearing, and tottering on un-steady legs. Ratchet had asked him to wait until the sedation had worn off, but since when had Ironhide cared about something like that? He bounced off the walls and couldn't walk in a straight line, but he made it to his quarters, and rammed the door closed on the evil world that forced him to put up with the nasty deeds that continually happened to him. Like, say, Ratchet. Or rodents.

_**Next weekend, Sam's little house next to his parent's big house...**_

"I want to see one," Sam announced, shoving the last of the pizza he'd ordered into his gaping mouth.

Bumblebee sat on the 'Autobot' couch, staring at his human best friend as he fed himself. "Why should you see one when I haven't?" The Camaro was touchy about this subject. All of his friends (even Sam!) had experienced intimacy, and he hadn't. He'd never been with a femmebot. And what would it mean to Sam? Ironhide's thing was about female robots, not humans.

Sam cocked his head, wiping crumbs from his mouth with the back of one hand, "You want to see it too."

Bumblebee's yellow frame went stiff, his gears whirring, "That is not up for discussion."

"Whoa! Cranky robot, clear the room!"

Bumblebee groaned, "Sam, please. I know what you want to do, and it is not in any way advisable to take that course of action."

Having finished his load of oil and grease for dinner, Sam scrambled up next to Bumblebee, invading his couch. His legs dangled over the edge. "So? We'll go and raid Prime's room then. I'm sure he has one, and he's less likely to kill us than Ironhide is. We'll probably get a talking to, 'Naughty bot, naughty boy!', something like that."

"Sam!" Bumblebee squeaked, horrified. "Optimus Prime does NOT indulge in such activities! He will not have bad things under his recharge berth!"

"Bee," Sam turned serious, "Trust the human on this, I'm pretty sure he has one. He's a man, isn't he? Unless I'm, er, missing something here?"

Bumblebee squirmed uncomfortably, the doorwings on his back fluttering slightly, "He is a mech, Sam."

"Yeah, okay, mech then."

"RRRRrrrrr! RUFF! Rrrr! Growl!" Mojo's pint-sized bottom appeared coming backwards through the dog flap, startling the boy and Cybertronian. One of his skinny legs was sticking through the flap, flailing around for grip on the floor. Bumblebee was relieved. He didn't want to have discussions about things he probably shouldn't be telling Sam about.

"Mojo?!" Sam stared at his dog in disbelief, "What on Earth are you _doing_?"

Mojo kept growling and carrying on. He was trying to drag something backwards through his dog door. By now his whole back end was inside.

"What the – Mojo! Stop! No! What are you-" Sam suddenly slapped himself in the forehead. "Oh _no_, you've been next door again, haven't you?!"

Mojo continued to struggle with whatever he had in his mouth. It was obviously too big to fit through the hole, whatever it was, so Bumblebee; seeing Mojo's dilemma (Bee considered Mojo to be 'one of the boys', since the little male canine liked to hang out with them in Sam's special house); hurriedly sent a flash signal to the garage door.

Bumblebee called urgently to the dog, "Mojo, use the big door, it's open now, Mojo-"

POP Zzzzzzzz .

With one last jerk, Mojo fell backwards on his rump – one large deflated plastic pool duckie in his mouth.

"Oh _crap_... Mojo..." Sam said desperately. "I TOLD you to stop stealing things out of the Wilcox's pool! Didn't I?! What did I say, Mo', what did I say?! Mom will be sooo upset with you!" he moaned.

Grunting with effort, Mojo tottered and skittered over to the Autobot couch, and dropped his cargo at Bumblebee's feet. The dog smiled up at the Autobot eagerly. His tail wagged and his bottom weaved back and forth with it. Look what I've got for you!

"...Sam?" The Autobot stared down at the mangled expired duckie with confusion.

"Yes Bee?" Sam's shoulders sagged with resignation.

"Why is Mojo giving me a damaged piece of faded plastic as a gift?"

"..."

"Sam..?"

"Just be glad Mojo isn't a cat, or else you'd have a dead rat at your feet instead of a exterminated rubber duckie."

"Oh. Ick. Mojo, no dead rodents please. That's an order."

_**Autobot base...**_

Ka-BLAM! BOOOOM!

Ironhide smiled broadly at the missing target on his shooting range and lowered his smoking arm.

"Now that's more like it.." he rumbled, impressed with himself. Ratchet had made a few adjustments to his right cannon while he was sedated, replacing some of the ion igniters as a sort of Ratchet-sized 'thank you' for putting up with his surgery.

"Very good." Optimus Prime was standing behind him, his arms crossed over his impressive chest and his optics shrewdly inspecting the remains (or not-so-remains) of Ironhide's perfect shot. Sunlight shone and glinted off his finely polished red and blue armor.

His own rifle was attached to his back between his shoulders. After all the time he'd spent cleaning and adjusting it, he'd decided to try it out on Ironhide's fancy target range. The black mech wasn't the only one who got to blow random things up and whoop about it. Ratchet had sensibly declined the opportunity at a little mech-to-mech shoot-out contest. Who wanted to get caught between a manic Ironhide and smirking Optimus? He was a medic, not a rifle kisser.

"Hitting stationary targets is for sparklings." Optimus un-folded his arms and reached behind his shoulder, pulling out his intimidating rifle with ease. "When are these limp sparked targets going to move?"

"Move?" Ironhide lifted an optic ridge. "You want things to _move_?"

Upon receiving an encrypted signal from the Weapons Specialist, the twenty or so targets at the end of the range began to track themselves back and forth, up and down, and around each other in circles; making the job arguably more difficult.

Ironhide stepped back behind his Leader, waving a large indulgent hand, "So shoot'em, youngling."

As Optimus stepped up to his mark and began to aim (an act which on the battlefield usually sent Decepticons running in every direction and squealing for their female progenitors), Ironhide drawled one last helpful titbit.

"They shoot back too..." he stated dryly, leaning back against the wall of the shooting range indulgently as whistling shots of sparklers (painful, but not injury inducing, orbs of energy – like human paintballs set on fire) began soaring down the range straight at a surprised Optimus. "Better get a move on, smartie pants. Three hits and you're out."

"SLAG!" Prime began hot footing it back and forth, cursing, hurtling his own screaming rifle shots back at the targets AND the sparklers.

Ironhide barked with laughter. "Easy, my aft. Gullible bot. Shouldn't have bothered with the armor polishing, Prime," he snickered, as a sparkler landed on Prime's left thigh and made him yelp, hopping on one leg. And that was not the last of the hits either...

Approaching the base entrance, Bumblebee dimmed the loudness of his engine, hearing an enraged yell which was definitely of Optimus Prime origin.

"Oh dear."

"Hmmm? What's wrong, Bee?" Sam shook himself from his musing, sitting up in his seat. It was too early in the morning for him to be awake and intelligent. On his lap, Mojo was curled up and dozing. The boy flinched at hearing an intimidating male scream. "Holy shit, who the heck was that?"

Bumblebee laughed, revving his engine and spinning his steering wheel to turn himself towards the shooting range. "THAT was Optimus. Ironhide is playing tricks on him in the target range."

"Really?" Sam smirked, looking thoughtful. "If they're both busy blowing each other up, then..."

"Sam." Bumblebee sighed, bumping roughly over the dirt road. "NO."

"But, Bee, listen, we only want to get a quick look, you can scan it, right? We won't even have to remove it from the room. See? Easy! Please?"

Bumblebee groaned. He couldn't deny Sam anything he wanted when the boy said 'please' in that sparkling-type voice.

Bumblebee braked, skidding to a stop. "Alright, alright. IF Optimus and Hide stay out in the shooting range." Another scream. Yes, Prime was busy. "IF Ratchet doesn't show an interest in us creeping around the hallways. And IF – we do all this as quickly as possible and leave everything as we found it."

"Yeah, yeah!" Sam's head bounced eagerly, nodding. "Let's do it!"

Mojo sat up in Sam's lap, and barked. He didn't care what they were doing, as long as he got to run around and play. Bumblebee spun his steering wheel again, this time in the opposite direction, heading back to the base. He was terrified and excited at the same time. He really wanted to see one of those contraband femmebot datapads, and he was glad of having Sam's help – or at least a fellow conspirator to get in trouble with if they were found out. It was never fun to get punished alone... Sunstreaker had taught him that!

_**Ratchet's medbay... **_

The CMO had re-arranged his tool wall several times already. Each item was cleaned, polished, checked over for maintenance, and placed in its correct position on the surgery wall. He scratched at his chin thoughtfully. No, no; perhaps the circular saws were best on the right-hand side of the wall, and the angular scalpels would be better placed – he paused, looking behind himself.

He could've sworn someone just crept past the medbay entrance. Or several someone's. Had Ironhide blown several bits off of Optimus and was trying to escape punishment by hiding?

He looked again.

Nope. He shrugged and went back to his maintenance. Okay then, the surgical saw's should be on the right, and the-

"BARK!"

Ratchet spun around, his hands spread out and ready. Mojo was standing in the doorway, his miniscule tail wagging a big hello to his favourite Transformer friend.

Mojo's ears twitched, and he panted, "Urf?"

"Mojo!" Ratchet smiled, "I didn't know you were coming today! Hang on a second, I think I still have some treats left over-"

"Mojo, no!" Sam whispered harshly, cursing, snatching up his dog and racing out of the medbay.

"Keep him quiet, Sam!" Bumblebee's voice.

The medbay went quiet again. No Mojo, no Sam, no Bee. Ratchet stared up at the ceiling, muttering. Whatever. Strange lot those ones.

_**Outside Ironhide's room...**_

"Hurry, Bumblebee!" Sam crouched behind his friend, waiting while the Camaro tried to open the door.

Bumblebee was tense, concentrating, tapping away at the keypad on the doorframe. Ironhide's door was locked and encrypted. Nothing was ever easy or a pushover when it came to the intimidating black mech. His speciality may have been weapons, but he was damn good at keeping locked doors closed, too. Bee wouldn't have been surprised if small machine guns popped up and started spraying him and Sam with rounds of bullets if he managed to trip the alarm system attached to the keypad.

Another minute more, and Bumblebee was ready to give up. He clenched his fists. His thick feet creaked on the floor as he shifted his weight. "I can't get in. It's too complex. I'd need to route the signals through the base's main computer, and that would leave a data trail naming me as the hacker."

"No way..." Sam whispered. He looked up and down the hallway. "Let's try Prime's room then."

"Sam!" Bumblebee crouched down, hissing, "We cannot break into Optimus' quarters! That is an inconceivably horrible thing to imagine for any Autobot!"

"Yeah, but..." Sam smirked. "It looks like he left his door open..." The boy pointed a finger at the last door in the hallway. It appeared to be open just a smidgen. There was a small crack of 'blackness' that wasn't as black as the surrounding wall and door.

"Oh." Bumblebee blinked his optic covers. "I don't think so..."

"C'mon!" Sam hitched the hood of his sweater jacket over his head, crouched over and took long creeping steps down the hallway.

"Primus, we are so dead. I'm going to be dismantled," Bumblebee moaned, covering his face with his hands while following after the boy.

"Hurry, Bee!" Sam hissed. "It's open!"

The yellow Autobot halted in front of the door, his optics fuzzing over. "Sam, we _can't_!"

"Bumblebee, we _can_!" Sam nudged at the massive door with his hands, straining to move it aside. Mojo had managed to squeeze through the crack already. Now their fate was sealed. They had to retrieve Mojo.

Whining with distress – but curious to see what Prime's room was like, too – Bumblebee gave in and helped slide the door open while scanning down the hallway to check if anyone was coming. They'd hear Optimus or Ironhide coming from a mile away, those two were never silent. Ratchet, though... he could creep silently with the best of the Autobot trackers.

"Oh, hey. Neat. So this is where the Bossbot hangs out." Sam stood with his hands on his hips, staring around the room.

The room was dimly lit by automatic lights left at whatever setting Optimus had last used them at. A _huge _flat bed (what the Autobots referred to as a 'recharge berth') dominated the room. This was to be expected since Optimus was one huge robot. A long desk with an accompanying chair was set against the left wall, and decorating the walls were some curious-looking metal discs. Some silver, others grey, and one translucent. _Pictures or something?,_ Sam mused, looking up open-mouthed. He'd have to ask Bee later. Optimus certainly didn't seem to have posters of naked female robots on HIS walls... unless that's what the strange discs were?

There was a large window in the far wall, but Sam already knew it was a hologram of what the outside view was like. Ironhide had explained that having real windows like the humans did for their houses was a stupid idea. Too easy to breech. Holographic display screens were standard.

Mojo was 'ruffing' to himself and exploring around under the bed. He'd been in this room already. Ironhide had dumped him in it when the Autobots had done dog-sitting for Sam.

"Sam, quickly," Bumblebee was getting edgy, "look under the berth, you are shorter than I am."

"Right. Move over, Mo'!" Sam crawled on hands and knees underneath the overhang for the bed. Mojo was snuffling and pawing at a box which was half-open. "What is that?" Sam muttered, taking a peek. There were small glowing balls inside. They looked like... energon? Sam hesitantly pushed the box out from under the bed. "Bee, what's this?"

Bumblebee kneeled down, looking closely. "OH! I didn't know he liked those."

"Huh? What are they?" Sam asked, not game to touch the eerily glowing silver-blue things.

"Energon treats. Very rich and strong tasting. I don't like them much, but I guess Optimus does, since the box is half empty! Ratchet wouldn't be pleased. They mess around with the fluctuation filters for our systems." Bumblebee edged the box back to the position it had come from. He was feeling terrible pangs of guilt. They shouldn't BE here! "Sam, I really don't see anything interesting to us here, let's leave."

Sam shook his head, still looking around, "You keep a lookout then, I'll have a better look. I think there is-"

A small hissing noise signalled the door to the room being pushed open hesitantly. The boy and the bot froze in terror. Bumblebee looked horrified. Blue optics met wide human eyes.

"Oh _shit_..." Sam mouthed.

Someone was entering the room!

**NEXT:** Have the naughty boys been discovered by Optimus? Will there be; A) A spanking? B) A shooting? or C) General chaos with shooting, spanking AND screaming? All coming up in the next chapter!


	11. Chapter 11

**Tales of Mojo – 'Superdog'**

Authors Note: I'm sorry this chapter is a bit short, I typed it up very quickly. Didn't want to keep people waiting too long for it. Thanks for the reviews, BTW! I appreciate and love every one of them (yes, **Litahatchee**, you get love too. You go, girl! You haven't properly arrived on FFN until you've received a review by the review goddess. Heh. She manages to write awesome fanfic too).

**Chapter 11**

The door to Optimus Prime's quarters was pushed backwards by an off-green colored hand.

Bumblebee shrieked like a girl, diving behind Prime's massive recharge berth and hitting ground zero with a huge crash. Sam rolled back under the berth completely and stayed silent. He was completely freaked – but he kept his mouth shut and his pants dry. His squinting eyes tried to work out whose large feet he was looking at up close. Didn't look like Prime's outrageously flamed paws... And Ironhide didn't have greenish feet shaped like weird high-heels, either.

Uh oh. Ratchet. Sam winced.

It was Mojo who gave the whole game away. The proud little Chihuahua bounced out from under the berth (leaving behind his fearfully quivering boy) and jogged joyously to the feet of his favourite Autobot, barking and wagging his tail.

Ratchet halted just inside the door. He folded his arms tightly across his chest (awkward, with the thick black grill he had positioned there, but do-able). Did the boy and the bot not realise that he was equipped with scanners that were entirely capable of 'seeing through' the solid mass of the recharge bed?

Sam was rolled up under the bed with his hands over his head... and Bumblebee's aft stuck up in the air on the other side of the room was another big hint. Even if he hadn't by some strange chance been able to scan Sam as being underneath the berth, if Bee was around, Sam was too. Ratchet didn't require Prowl's legendary logic processors to work that out.

Ratchet frowned, "Mojo?"

"Urf?" The dog looked up at him earnestly. The canine was the only one in the room of this sorry lot that had any courage at all. He was facing up to the CMO.

"Why is Bumblebee crouching down with his aft in the air like he is waiting for an exhaust flush?"

Mojo hiccuped, and cocked a hind leg, scratching at his ear, grunting. Like, he would know?

Bumblebee whined. He slowly sat back on his heels and looked over at Ratchet, shame-faced. He lifted one hand and waved a weak 'hello'. Then he leaned back down, reached a hand underneath the berth; felt around for a bit; and poked Sam hard in the butt.

"OWW! Hey! Piss off Bee, you – oh. He can hear me now, can't he?" Sam's voice was muffled but still perfectly clear.

"Yes, Sam. Our duck is cooked." Bumblebee agreed, getting to his feet.

"It's GOOSE, Bee, our _goose_ is cooked," grumbling throughout the entire manoeuvre, Sam crawled out and stood up. He flinched when he saw Ratchet staring down at him. "Um, like, uh, hi Ratchet?"

"Hello, Sam." Ratchet's voice was frosty. His optics slowly perused the large room, looking to see if anything had been touched. It all seemed okay. Not that he thought Sam and Bumblebee would be taking anything. They must have been looking for something... unusual.

"How ya doin', good?" Sam asked conversationally, brightening up. "We brought Mojo for you!" His finger pointed at the dog.

Ratchet's optics returned from scanning the room's contents to look down at the boy, "So I noticed." His gaze flickered back over to the recharge bed. Naughty, naughty, Optimus. Energon treats under the berth, again? He and his Commander needed to have a talk. "Sam?"

"Yes?" One of Sam's hands reached out and touched Bumblebee's leg where the Camaro was standing morosely next to him, waiting for their punishment. Sam started to inch around and get behind Bee's lower leg. Creeping bit-by-bit.

"This may be obvious, but correct me if I am wrong. You do not have permission to enter Optimus' quarters, yes?"

Sam opened his mouth, paused, put a thoughtful finger to his lips; thinking; then perked up, "But he invited us over for a slumber party!"

Ratchet frowned, the image of Bumblebee and Sam bouncing around on Prime's recharge berth while watching TV and eating chips was not a good one. Nor did Optimus possess 'pillows' to have fights with. And if he did, one swat by Prime and Sam would be in the medbay groaning in pain with broken bones.

The medic sighed, "Try again."

"Damn..." Sam gnawed at his lip. "Um... I was looking for the little boys room?"

Ratchet blinked.

Bumblebee leaned past Sam and scooped up Mojo, "Mojo came in here! The door was open and we came to get him out!" Bee's voice was creaky but childishly earnest.

Mojo – shoved closely into Ratchet's face – burped. Then grinned, panting.

Ratchet slowly raised an optic ridge sceptically. "Really?"

"Yeah, yeah!" Sam nodded vigorously, backing up his friend. "You know what Mojo is like! Little devil gets into everything! We had to come get him, since, you know, he might get into some missiles lying around on the floor..." Sam trailed off, "or something."

The big green rescue Hummer thought that over. Mojo was into squirreling around and investigating things.. oh no. Hang on a microsecond! The dawning of the real reason why the boy and bot where in the room hit Ratchet hard. Primus. He and Optimus hadn't been quick enough to keep Mojo's earlier discovery a secret.

Ratchet looked back and forth between Bumblebee and Sam, his optics shrewd. "I must say, if you are looking for contraband material under someone's berth, Prime's is not the best one to pick. Ironhide's room is where you should be looking."

Sam groaned, covering his face with his hands, blushing red. Bumblebee didn't look too good either. His holding tanks whirled their contents uneasily.

"We couldn't get in," Sam mumbled, staring at his sneaker-clad feet.

"Ironhide's room? Pffft! He's not that smart." Ratchet was lightening up. "And I thought you had really learned a great deal under the guiding CPU's of Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, Bumblebee." Ratchet shook his head, turning on one foot, "Outside you lot. Now."

Bumblebee scooped up Sam in one hand while holding Mojo in the other, and trotted after the medic. He and Sam exchanged worried glances.

"Ratchet?" Sam asked, hanging onto Bee's encompassing fingers.

"Yes?" Ratchet turned left through the door of his beloved medbay, heading for some of his locked security cabinets.

"Are you going to tell Optimus we were in his room?"

Ratchet paused in the middle of opening one cupboard, his shoulders sagged for a second. "Perhaps. We'll see. Did you touch anything while you were in there?"

"No! No way! Definitely not, right Bee?" Sam shook his head.

"Correct. We did not touch or take anything." Bumblebee cautiously let Sam slide off his hand onto his feet on one of Ratchet's medbay tables. Mojo was carefully put beside him. The dog grumbled, looking around for food.

"And you will not attempt to enter his domain again?"

"Oh God, no. Never again! Not unless we've got invites." Sam agreed enthusiastically. Bumblebee warbled his agreement too.

Ratchet straightened up again, "Good! Well then, I think I know what type of object you two were looking for. Let me see..." The Autobot began rummaging through some of his collected items.

Sam and Bumblebee stared at each other. Sam's eyebrows were raised and his lips were in a pursed 'o' position. Bee cocked his head, whistling slightly. Was Ratchet going to just hand over what they wanted? That would be like Sam asking his Dad for his Playboy and Penthouse collection! What a mad idea.

Finally, Ratchet finished going through the cupboard and triumphantly held up a small datapad. He turned to Bumblebee and Sam, his optics shining, "Now this, I think," Ratchet waved the pad, "will satisfy your curiosity. It's old; well, ancient, actually; but I think you'll find it useful." He held out the datapad to Bumblebee.

The Camaro took it gingerly. Looking from it to Ratchet and back again. Confused.

Sam looked at what Bumblebee held in his hand. "Is that... about.. femmes?" He wanted to say 'naked' femmes, but wasn't sure if there was such a thing.

"Yes," Ratchet nodded, leaning back against a bench, smiling. "You humans are much too sensitive about this sort of thing. I believe it would have been better if we had not tried to keep Ironhide's passions a secret."

Sam laughed, wiping his mouth, "Ironhide's passions! Right!" The boy snorted.

Thanking the medic, Bumblebee tucked the pad away in his subspace pocket, scooped up his charges in both hands and proceeded to the base exit. Ratchet followed slowly behind them, thinking. The sounds of Ironhide's and Optimus' gun fight on the target range still echoed around the valley, although now it was Ironhide who was yelling and squealing. A pair of deranged sparklings, both of them, Ratchet smiled indulgently. He was glad he had opted out of the competition. Someone needed to be intact to fix up the lughead pair's injuries.

Bumblebee put the boy and dog back on the ground and transformed down into his Camaro form.

"Oh, and Sam?" Ratchet called out.

The boy paused in the act of getting into Bumblebee's drivers seat, looking over his shoulder, "Yeah Ratch?"

"We know where you keep your contraband. In your treasure chest," Ratchet said, smirking, "Not under your bed."

Sam groaned, ducking inside Bee, "Bloody robots with super hearing..." he slammed the door closed. He and Bee were going to have some fun when they got home.


End file.
